Deserted Distractions
by Blue Lace Agate
Summary: When the weather conspires to trap them together, things heat up between Ryou and Tea. But what happens when the darkness within Bakura comes out to play? Host/Vex
1. Chapter 1

_Snow._

The word hung in the frosty air like a whispered promise. It snuck through the over-crowded hallways of Domino High, rumbling like a jolly laugh, spreading like an infectious disease. It tiptoed through the teacher's lounge, where tired women making copies and coffee stopped complaining of aching feet and endless piles of grading and smiled a silent, secretive smile.

_Snow. _

It slipped under the heavy, creaking doors of the classrooms and danced through the air, wild as a Maenad, giddy as a child at Christmas. Students tapped their feet to its silent, fickle rhythm. They sighed in time with its frosty breath. Drooping heads perked at its approach, dull ears pricked at its murmur, and glazed eyes brightened to see its faint twinkle. And outside, high, high, high above the sighs and whispers and expectations, high, where the grey clouds gathered, it began to fall.

_Snow. _

Tea Gardener watched the first few flakes fall through the smudged glass of the window. She frowned abstractedly. Snow did not figure into her weekend plans, the way it did those of all the students around her, who had been talking about nothing else since assembly this morning, when the principal had "happened" to review the school's plan for inclement weather. Her plans involved working a double shift at Mama Gina's and then a straight six hour dance rehearsal. The Spring Showcase was coming up, despite what the weather suggested, and if Tea wanted to attract any scholarship offers, she'd have to be at the top of her game. She let out an almost-inaudible sigh and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, before turning her attention to the lecture that even the teacher didn't seem to care about.

Across the room, Ryou Bakura also looked towards the window, but he didn't see the tell-tale white flakes spiraling through the February winds. All of his attention was caught on the girl beside the window, on the way the harsh classroom lights brought out the warm highlights in her chocolate brown hair, on the way she tugged absently at the colored bangles on her wrist as she stared out the window, on the tiny crease of her forehead as she frowned, on the soft part of her lips as she sighed, on the round curve of her cheek as she turned towards him.

Immediately, he let his eyes fall to his desk. His heart raced just a little. Had she seen him? Had their eyes met for just a split second? His breath hitched as he peeked once more across the room. But no, if she had noticed him looking at her, she gave no sign. Her eyes were fixed on the front of the room, fingers absently tracing the curve of her bracelets. He released his breath. He was safe. He was invisible.

_You're pathetic. _

Ryou stiffened. He clenched the pencil in his hand so tight he thought it might break. He tried desperately to listen to the lecture he had been ignoring all class period, hoping the words, however boring, might distract him from imagining things he shouldn't.

_Only you're not imagining things and you know it. _The voice was a little louder this time, the familiar edge of scorn a little sharper.

Ryou shifted lower in his seat, folding his arms on the desk in front of him. It wasn't real. It wasn't. It wasn't. He was gone.

"Mr. Bakura?" The teacher was looking at his, eyebrow arched, radiating disapproval. "Is something the matter?"

"No," Bakura managed softly.

"Then I suggest you put your head up and pay attention." The teacher sniffed slightly. "This _will_ be on the test."

Ryou just nodded. He sat up straight and copied down what the teacher had written on the board. His notes for the rest of the period were flawless. Almost flawless. Just as the bell rang, he glanced down at his notebook. At the bottom of the page, underneath the tiny, precise lines of notes were three words, scrawled large, but undeniably in his own handwriting.

_You can't escape. _

Ryou stared at the page for a minute that felt like an eternity. Then, without the slightest change of his expression, he ripped out the page and crumpled it into a ball. He swept the rest of his belongings into his bookbag without looking at them, shouldered the bag, and walked to the door, pausing for just a second to toss the wad of paper in the trashcan.

He was staring so intently straight ahead that he didn't even notice Tea pausing by the calendar to check the due dates for their class project. She scribbled it down in her planner and straightened at exactly the wrong moment. Their bodies connected with an audible thud as Tea's planner shot out of her hands and Ryou's bookbag fell to the floor and its contents went flying.

"S-sorry!" Ryou stuttered as he knelt to retrieve the items. But that too went wrong as Tea knelt at the same instant and their heads bumped. "Sorry! I'm really sorry!" he stammered as he grabbed his bookbag off the dingy tile floor.

Tea smiled, her easy manner never faltering. "Don't worry about it. It was my fault just as much as yours. I should have been paying attention to my surroundings." She picked up Ryou's notebook and handed to him. "Here. This is yours."

He snatched it from her and stuffed into the bookbag. He stopped short, aghast at himself. Tea was staring at him. "Bakura? Are you okay?"

His cheeks grew hot and his knew his face must be tomato red. He silently cursed his pale skin. "Y-yes. Sorry, Tea. I was thinking about something else."

She looked skeptical, but didn't press him. Silently, she helped him collect his pens and pencils. Ryou spotted her planner under one of the nearby desks and retrieved it. "Here," he said shyly, offering it to her.

"Thanks." She flipped through the pages before closing it and putting it in her yellow backpack. She sighed. "So much to do, so little time."

Ryou wouldn't know. Once he left school, his days were filled with emptiness, with reading books by himself, with playing games for one player, with looking out windows onto empty streets, with sitting in an empty apartment that was never going to have anyone else in it, and with pretending, desperately pretending, all the while, that he was alone. But he nodded and made a sympathetic noise like he understood.

"And now there's this project," Tea was saying as she got to her feet. She rubbed at her forehead. "I don't know where I'll ever find the time."

"Maybe I could help you," he heard his own voice say.

Tea blinked, startled, and then smiled. "Sure, that would be great."

"Sometime this weekend?" he said and he could scarcely hear his words over the pulse throbbing in his eardrums.

Her brow puckered. "This weekend? Oh, I don't know… I'm really busy…"

"Today, then. During study hall."

Her face cleared. "That would be perfect. Thanks, Bakura."

"Don't mention it."

_Don't worry, she won't. _

He froze dead in his tracks, but Tea had already walked past and didn't notice.


	2. Chapter 2

History, English, Algebra, and with every class the homework just kept piling on. Téa groaned inwardly as she swung her backpack over her shoulder. It was like the teachers had no life outside of school and didn't expect their students to have one either. Her eyes slid up to the hall clock. At least she had study hall and lunch before she had to face Biology. Plus, Bakura had promised to help her with that paper. Maybe if she could get most of that done today…

As soon as she walked into the library, Yugi and Joey waved at her from the table near the window where they usually worked. Téa shook her head as she walked over to them. "Sorry guys, not today," she whispered. "I've got to work on my English project." She looked around. "Have you seen Bakura? He said he'd help me."

"Bakura?" Joey scratched his head in puzzlement.

Téa sighed. "Yeah. Call me crazy, but it seemed like he'd be better help than you or Tristan."

"Or even me," Yugi admitted humbly. He grimaced down at the math homework in front of him. "I'm not the best of students."

"You try hard," she encouraged him, "and that's what counts." They exchanged smiles before Téa caught a glimpse of an unmistakable head of hair over Yugi's shoulder. "There he is!" She hurried towards him, waving at the others as she went. "See you later!"

If she had glanced out the window, she would have seen the flurry of flakes veiling the sky and the already-visible glaze of white deepening on the streets below. But she didn't. The only white she saw was the waves of white hair that fell over Bakura's shoulders and the pale of his face against the dark brown of his eyes. She ran towards him. "Bakura!"

Ryou was halfway to his usual corner table when Téa caught up to him. "Found you!" She grinned up at him. "Are we still on?"

For the briefest of seconds, he let himself pretend she meant a date, let himself imagine that everyone in the library had heard it and thought she meant a date. And then the second passed and he let himself fall back down to earth. "Of course. Where would you like to work?"

Téa bit her lip. Ryou looked down at the carpet to keep from staring at the lush pink fullness captured between her teeth. "To tell you the truth, I haven't exactly read it yet. _The Crucible_, I mean." A slight flush rose along her cheeks.

Ryou raised an eyebrow. "Is Téa Gardner actually admitting to not doing a homework assignment?"

"Shhh!" She pressed her finger against his lips. Despite himself, heat rushed to his face. "Do you want the whole school to know?"

Ryou chuckled softly as she let her hand fall. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Téa giggled. "So, off to the shelves?"

He nodded. "Let's go."

There were some students whom the study hall monitor would have looked askance at going off together to the back shelves of the library. But both Téa and Ryou were well known as exemplary students, so it didn't attract any notice. They didn't waste any time in getting two copies of _The Crucible_ by Arthur Miller, and then settling down in one of the quiet corners behind the shelves of old newspapers where nobody ever went and they could talk without a librarian shushing them.

"So what is the paper supposed to be on, anyway?" Ryou asked.

Téa looked surprised. "Don't you know?"

"Hey, at least _I_ did the reading."

She blushed again. "Point taken." She rummaged through her backpack and pulled out her class notes. "Write a 2-3 page paper examining the motivations in Act One of one of these three characters: John Proctor, Abigail Williams, or Reverend Parris." She looked up at Ryou. "Well, considering I haven't read any of this yet, so I don't have a clue about them, I guess I'll go with the girl. What do you think?"

"M-me? Um, well, Abigail Williams is a very complex character. She'll make for a good paper."

"Great." Téa frowned. "It also means it could be easy to screw this up."

"That's why I'm here," he reminded her.

"Right. Okay, let's dive in. Where does Abigail come into the story?"

"At the beginning. Let's read Act I together. You can read for Abigail and I'll read for Parris to start."

Ryou had read over the play at least three times since the teacher had assigned it and after the first few lines, Téa seemed to get the gist of Abigail's character and began to read with expression. They quickly fell into the rhythm of the lines, and Ryou found himself enjoying the reading. But there were some lines—or maybe just some words within the lines—that struck an odd note within him. A chill, almost, or, no, a resonance. A rightness that was somehow terribly wrong…

He shook his head, clearing it. He was letting his thoughts run away with him. They were just words on a page, that was all.

He looked up at Téa. She was bent over her book, totally absorbed in the words. "I would never hurt Betty." Téa's voice quavered as she read. "I love her dearly."

"Now look you, child, your punishment will come in its time," read Ryou. "But if you trafficked with spirits in the forest I must know it now for surely my enemies will, and they will ruin me with it." It was just another line. But why did the words seem more than that? Why did they stare back at him, pitch-black against the dead white paper? Why did they still echo in his head?

_You trafficked with spirits. _

_Trafficked with spirits. _

_Spirits. _

_They will ruin me with it. _

"But we never conjured spirits," Téa read softly. Her eyes flickered up to his. They asked a silent question. _Are you alright?_

Ryou tried to smile reassuringly at her, no matter how incongruous it was with the next line he was reading. But something froze the smile on his face. _Trafficked with spirits. _The words would not leave him alone. His fingers tightened on the spine of the book. "Abigail, do you understand that I have many enemies?"

"I have heard of it, uncle." Téa read. The expression was gone from her voice. Her eyes kept wandering from the script to his face. A slight frown creased her brow. "Bakura, are you…"

He swallowed hard. "I'm fine. Just a headache. Nothing to worry about." He was a good liar. It was a skill he'd had to cultivate over the years.

But Téa didn't look convinced. Her frown deepened. "Look, Bakura, if you're not feeling well, then you don't need to feel obligated to help me. I'll manage by myself somehow."

"I am not helping you out of _obligation_," Ryou replied firmly. "I am helping because I want to, and I still want to."

Téa smiled. "That's very sweet of you."

_Ah, yes. So sweet. Such a sweet,_ innocent _boy._

"Shall we continue?" Ryou said quickly, perhaps just a touch too quickly.

But Téa hesitated. "I don't know, Bakura." She rubbed her forehead. "It's just taking _so long_." She sighed. "I know I must sound so impatient—and ungrateful for your help. And I'm not, not really. I was just really hoping to get this done today. I have so much to do this weekend."

Ryou reached for his bag. Looked like it was time for his secret weapon. "Well, I didn't want to mention it at first, but there is a film version." He pulled out the DVD from his bookbag. He'd borrowed it from the city library last week and planned to return it on the way home from school today.

Téa boggled. "Are you kidding me? You're a lifesaver, Bakura!" For a second, she looked as if she were going to hug him, but then she caught herself in the nick of time.

Ryou smilled, ducking his head to hide the flush that rose to his face as he turned back to his bag. He produced his laptop and a pair of earphones. "We'll have to share," he admitted, embarrassed.

Téa shook her head. She dug in her backpack for a minute and came up with a pair of bright pink earbuds. "Now we each have one," she said triumphantly.

"I hope you're not expecting me to use those," Ryou teased. "I get mistaken for a girl enough as it is."

"Oh please," Téa scoffed. "Real men wear pink. And only an idiot would think you're a girl just because of your hair and how pretty your face is."

Ryou went red from head to toe. _She thinks my face is pretty? _ "Uh, thanks," he managed.

Téa's cheeks went pink and she tossed her hair a little to hide it. "Don't let it go to your head," she muttered.

_What a sweet and tender moment,_ the voice in his head mocked. _Why don't you kiss her? _

Ryou tried to push the voice away, but despite himself, his eyes fell to her soft, pink lips.

She wrapped the earbud cord around her fingers. "So, are we going to watch this movie or what?"

"S-sure." He fumbled with the laptop and put the DVD in. He went to plug in his earphones at the same moment that Téa did. Their fingers met for an interminable moment, until both of them pulled their hands back with an embarrassed look at each other.

In another moment, the earbuds were in and the music of the opening credits was blasting through them. But all Ryou could hear was laughter: cruel, dark, and horribly familiar.


	3. Chapter 3

_Snow. _

At last, it came, not a teasing chilly promise, or a few flirting flakes, but in earnest, in a cascade of white, like a bride come to meet her husband.

_Snow. _

It fell from the sky like a tickertape parade. It veiled the windows and draped the trees. It coated the cars and the houses and the streets, unwilling that anything should go undecorated by its touch.

_Snow._

Even the schools could not resist its festive orders any longer. The decision was made; the word sent down. And soon wild cheers erupted and furtive grins widened just a touch, as Domino High joined the celebration.

The teachers tried to keep order as best they could, between ringing phones and blaring intercoms, and funneling students to the appropriate busline. Still, the raucous cries and cheers and chatter could not be silenced. They filled the classrooms and rattled through the halls and throughout the schools.

Everywhere but the library.

The library was quiet, except for the sounds of Mrs. White, that venerable old battleaxe, finishing up some re-shelving and straightening up the front desk. She worked slowly, but steadily, without any regard for the commotion that had consumed the rest of the school or the ever-lengthening line of cars and buses shuttling the students off. Snow or no snow, there was no sense in leaving the library messy and cluttered for the new week. She'd long since gotten rid of all the noisy, cheering students—the library was no place for racket like that! They'd all been eager to leave, anyway; no one thought of finishing up their math homework or their Social Studies project when there was a snow day to think of.

No, thought Mrs. White regretfully as she re-shelved the last of the books, young people these days had no true thirst for learning. It was a pity, a real pity. But what could one do? She sighed to herself and clucked her tongue. There was a dull thud as the last book—it was one of those unfortunate_ Twilight _books that the teenage girls would insist on checking out—fell into its place on the bookshelf. Mrs. White turned back to the front desk. She straightened the stack of forms on the counter and swept her few personal possessions into her oversized floral handbag.

Her eyes scanned the library. All empty. All quiet. Even the muffled sounds from down the hall had died down as all of the students had finally gone. In a few minutes, the teachers and staff would follow suit and leave the school completely silent. The librarian's hand lingered on the light switch. Truth, be told, she enjoyed these quiet times at the beginning and end of the day more than anything else. Just her and the books she loved. But a glance out the window reminded her to hurry. With a last little sigh, she turned off the lights as she walked out the door. The door closed behind her with a dull thud. There was a tiny metallic click as she locked it, the last sound the library would hear until Monday morning when school would start again.

Only it wasn't.

Perhaps, if Mrs. White had been a little more thorough in her last few checks of the library, or perhaps if she had been younger and her hearing better, she would have noticed the quiet whirr of a laptop fan, the little noises of cloth shifting on carpet, and the faint, muffled sound of music coming through two sets of earbuds.

But she didn't.

Perhaps, if she had lingered just a little longer at the door, she would have heard two startled voices say, at the same time, "Hey!" and "What happened to the lights?"

But she didn't.

She just kept walking down the silent halls, past the empty classrooms and darkened corridors. She nodded at the custodian, who already had his big ring of keys out.

"Looks like you're the last one," he said with a smile. "Drive safely, Mrs. White."

"You too, Sam," she said. "Have a nice weekend." She walked out into the empty parking lot.

Behind her, Sam turned out the last of the lights, locked the big double doors and put the key ring back inside his jacket as he hustled out to his car, the last one left in the lot. Looked like it would be a nice, long weekend. With any luck, the snow would keep piling up and cancel Monday as well.

* * *

><p>Téa and Bakura ripped the earbuds from their ears as they fumbled around in the sudden darkness.<p>

"Did the power go out?" Téa wondered, forgetting to be quiet. Her voice echoed oddly, and she noticed for the first time how silent everything was.

"I don't think so," said Bakura. "Look, the laptop says it's still plugged in. Maybe the light bulbs blew."

"All of them?" Téa shook her head. "And why is it so quiet? Where is everyone?" She took a few faltering steps into the darkness. "Yugi?" she called. "Joey? Tristan?" There was no answer. "Is anybody there?" She took a few more steps forward. Only her outstretched hands kept her from crashing into one of the shelves.

"Careful," said Bakura. He unplugged the laptop and picked it up, using the open screen to light the way. "Something strange is going on. We'd better stick together."

Téa nodded. "You're right." She smiled shakily. "I'm glad you're with me, Bakura."

Deep down inside him, Ryou wondered if her faith was misplaced. A dark, horrible fear gnawed at his gut. What if something truly terrible had happened? What if _he_ had done something terrible? His heart raced. The denials and the barriers he had so carefully built up in his mind started to crumble as his thoughts whirled. It couldn't be… not the whole school… But there had been _incidents_ at other schools before he came here to Domino, he thought grimly. No one was safe while he was with them. Since Duelist Kingdom, he had been in danger of forgetting that. Now it all came flooding back with such violent force it sucked the air right out of his lungs.

Téa glanced at him, her blue eyes wide with trepidation. "Bakura? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he managed to grit out.

"Are you sure?" There was the slightest tremor in her voice as she said, "You looked so… _angry_."

He forced himself to relax and paste a smile on his face. "Sorry. I guess it's just this situation has me on edge. I wish I knew what was going on."

"Yeah, me too." Téa bit her lip. "I hope everything's okay."

Together, they slowly ventured out behind the tall row of shelves and peered into the open space of the library. The pale blue glow from the laptop only really illuminated the first few feet in front of then; the rest was hazy shadows and a dim glow from the shuttered windows. There didn't seem to be anyone else around.

"Yugi? Joey?" Téa called again, but her voice betrayed the futility of the exercise.

"They're gone, Téa," said Ryou softly. "There's no one here." He looked around the room, squinting into the darkness. There didn't seem to be any signs of violence—no blood, no bodies, no evidence of a struggle. The tightness in his chest eased a little—but just a little. _He_ could have done something and left no trace behind, Ryou knew all too well. The Shadows didn't always leave behind the empty vessels of those they devoured.

He laid the laptop down on a nearby table and went to the door. He fumbled with the handle. "Locked," he said. His heart beat a little faster. What if whatever had happened wasn't over? What if _he_ still had plans? He couldn't bring himself to glance over at Téa.

"The door's locked?" Téa echoed, her voice high-pitched and nervous. She went to the window and pulled up the blinds. Pale light streamed into the dark room, softening the shadows. "Oh!" she gasped.

Ryou went over to see what she was looking at. She pointed out the window with an almost frightened nod. "Look," she whispered. Ryou's breath caught. White blanketed the landscape below, making it almost impossible to tell where the lawn ended and the roads began. The snow was still falling steadily with no sign of slowing.

They were well and truly snowed in.


	4. Chapter 4

"Snowed in," Téa echoed, and the words sounded like a death sentence falling from her lips. "We're snowed in."

The library was silent and dark, lit only by the blue glow of an open laptop and the pale white light that streamed in through the window. Téa and Bakura stood wordlessly watching the snow fly through the air, the white blanket below ever-thickening. Eventually, Téa could take it no longer. She turned away, tossing her head and stamping her feet. "How could this happen!"she demanded of no one in particular. "This is crazy!"

"We must not have heard the intercom because we had the earbuds in," Bakura murmured thoughtfully.

"Obviously." Téa was in no mood to be polite. She rubbed at her forehead. "How could they just leave us here? Didn't anyone even notice we were missing?"

Bakura shrugged. "We don't even know for sure that everyone's gone," he pointed out.

Téa blinked in surprise. "I hadn't thought of that," she muttered. She dashed to the door, but as Bakura had already found, it was locked. She pounded her fists on the thick doors. "Hey!" she shouted. "We're trapped up here!" She kept pounding and yelling for several minutes, until finally Bakura pulled her away from the door.

"It's not helping, Téa," he said. "If there's anyone there, they either can't hear us or don't care."

"What do you want me to do?" Téa demanded. "Just give up?"

"Well, I really don't see what good a blinding headache is going to do either one of us."

Téa relented. She slumped against the door. "I guess not," she sighed. "But what are we going to do?"

Bakura looked thoughtful. "We could try to pick the lock." He walked over to the door and jiggled the handle. He bent and peered at the lock. "Do you have a bobby pin or something?"

Téa absently ran a hand through her hair, even though she knew perfectly well she hadn't been wearing any. "'Fraid not."

"Hmmm." Bakura frowned, and glanced around the room, as if he expected to see a big basket of bobby pins just laying around somewhere. Téa's eyes followed his, although she certainly didn't see anything of the sort.

"Aha!" Bakura smiled triumphantly as he walked over to the front desk and picked up one of those "Club Reading" buttons that Mrs. White kept on the counter, as if the students were in first grade and not high school. "This should work, I think." He bent the pin back and forth until the cheap metal snapped in his hand. He tossed the broken button in the trash and went to work on the lock with the pin. In just a minute or two, Téa heard a distinct click. Bakura straightened and opened the door.

"After you," he said with a smile.

Téa shook her head in bemusement. "Where did you learn to pick locks?"

He blinked at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I really can't remember. Must have just picked it up sometime. I've moved around enough." He shrugged, as if it didn't matter.

The hallway was as dark as the library—darker, since there were no windows to let in light. Téa and Bakura picked their way carefully through the dim corridor, looking for lights under doors, listening for voices, searching for any signs that they were not alone. They found none. Everywhere they went, they found only darkness and emptiness. Finally, they arrived at the front of the school. The double doors were locked and bolted shut. Téa peered out the windows. The parking lot, which was completely covered with snow, was empty, as Téa had known it would be all along. She exchanged glances with Bakura. They were on their own.

Téa heaved a sigh. "Well, I guess I'd better call home. Though, by the looks of things, I doubt anyone's going to be coming to get us any time soon." She finished her cell phone out of her blazer pocket. "Great," she groaned. "No signal. That just figures."

"We can try the office phone," Bakura pointed out.

The office was locked, but Bakura picked the lock and had the door open in a trice. Téa shivered involuntarily as she stepped inside. She'd never seen the office without Ms. Connors at the reception desk, a too-chipper smile pasted on her face, typing a million words a minute at the computer, or without Principal Burke ensconced in his big leather chair, elbows propped up on his massive fake-mahogany desk, a perpetual frown etched on his face, or without the continual hustle and bustle of teachers, staff, and misbehaving students flowing in and out. Now, dark and empty, it looked strange and eerie.

She wasted no time in going to the phone on Ms. Connors' desk. She couldn't hear a dial tone when she picked it up, but she dialed her parents' number anyway, crossing her fingers for luck. It didn't help. She slammed the receiver down. Bakura arched an eyebrow at her as he looked up from the computer.

"Phone's dead," she announced grimly. It hadn't really surprised her. Nothing surprised her right now. If the heavens opened up and poured out hail and brimstone, all she would be able to manage was a dull "oh."

Bakura nodded, like he too had half-expected it. "The internet too. Must be some storm out there." He sighed as he straightened and ran his hand through his hair. "What are we going to do?"

Téa blinked. "What do you mean?" It hadn't really occurred to her that there was anything to do. They were trapped here, indefinitely, with no communication to the outside world… well, short of smoke signals or something. A few years ago, she might have called it her own private purgatory—but that would have been before she started hanging out with Yugi. Now, she knew there were worse fates than being trapped in school over the weekend—but it still didn't make the prospect any more appealing.

A small noise across the room interrupted her thoughts and made her realize that Bakura was waiting for her to respond. She swallowed back the sigh that rose to her lips. "What _is _there to do?"

"I meant about food and things," Bakura explained. "There's no telling how long we might be stranded here, and I'm not exactly keen on the idea of a weekend fast. I thought we ought to poke around a bit and see what we have to work with."

"A scavenging expedition, huh?" She shrugged. "Sure, why not? It's not like we've got anything better to do." The smallest of grin scampered across her face. "Who knows, it might actually be fun."

* * *

><p>The metal clicked softly and Ryou felt the lock spring open. He withdrew the pin and turned the handle, avoiding Téa's curious eyes. At least she didn't seem suspicious about his skill, only surprised. He wished he could feel the same way.<p>

He must have read about picking locks. He'd always been reading one book or another during all those lonely years when it was just Father and him, or more usually, just him. He must have taught himself how to do it out of a book, and then forgot about it. It was a perfectly rational explanation, if a little unlikely.

His stomach clenched and a familiar vile taste crept into his mouth.

"Bakura?" Téa's voice sounded too loud in the silence of the darkened corridors. "Is everything okay?"

He stepped back from the door, forcing a smile. "Of course." He held the door open for her as she stepped inside.

"I've never been inside the teacher's lounge before," Téa admitted with a nervous laugh. "Makes me feel a little rebellious, to be honest." Her eyes gleamed mischievously.

Ryou flicked on the lights. The lounge was nothing more than a sparsely furnished workroom. The walls were painted a rather dingy beige. There were a couple of photocopiers shoved up against one wall, a refrigerator and a few cupboards against the other, and a table and chairs in the middle. He glanced over at Téa, who was trying—badly—to conceal her disappointment.

"Not exactly thrilling, is it?" he asked her ruefully.

She shrugged. "Oh well. We might as well get what we came for."

Ryou opened the refrigerator, while Téa rummaged through the cabinets. Together, they turned up half a gallon of skim milk, two packs of Ritz crackers, a half-eaten bag of Hershey kisses, three very stale cinnamon rolls, the remains of what might possibly have once been a tuna salad, and a banana with skin the shade of chocolate milk.

Téa wrinkled her nose. "This may be a better weekend for my diet than I thought," she muttered.

The kitchen was more promising. Everything was locked, of course, but that was no problem. Ryou's fingers seemed to instinctively know what to do—as if they'd done it hundreds of time. He bit his lip and tried not to show how unnerved he was. Téa didn't seem to notice. She was too busy cataloging their spoils. There was milk—2%, 1%, skim, and chocolate—, orange juice, and apple juice in little cartoons, fresh fruit, bags of chips, and boxes of cereal. Most of the food in the freezer would be difficult to prepare, but there were plenty of hot dogs and pizzas. Whatever else, they wouldn't starve.

But now that they had found provisions for however long they'd be forced to stay here, the adventure was wearing off. The mischievous sparkle had faded from Téa's eyes and Ryou struggled to distract himself from pondering just how he had learned to pick locks and his strong suspicion that he already knew the answer.

"So what now," he asked at last.

Téa shrugged. "I thought you were the one with the plan, O fearless leader with amazing lock-picking skills."

Ryou rolled his shoulders uneasily. "I'm afraid I only thought ahead long enough to think of what we would eat." He frowned. "I guess we'll have to figure out sleeping arrangements at some point, but we've got hours still to think of that."

But Téa's mind was already whirring. "We could use the gym mats for beds," she suggested. "Only, let's not sleep in the gym. For one thing, it'll be freezing, and for another, it kinda gives me the creeps when the lights are out."

After they had got the mats and were dragging them through the school hallway, Téa hit upon the idea of going to Mrs. Evans' room. Mrs. Evans was the school counselor and special education coordinator and her room not only had carpet—unlike 99% of the other classrooms—but it was also decorated with bright, colorful posters. It was the least likeliest place in the school to creep her out.

Mrs. Evans' room was definitely cheerful, but it was also messy. Storage bins full of odd and interesting shapes tottered in a precarious stack near the closet, while Mrs. Evans' desk was almost completely surrounded by smaller stacks of odds and ends.

Ryou knew this room well. After he'd first transferred to Domino High, he'd visited Mrs. Evans for a few weeks, "to help smooth the transition for him," the school had claimed, as if he didn't _know_ what his father had written on his paperwork—to say nothing of the forms his last school had sent. Mrs. Evans had been nice, extremely nice. She was the kind of person it was easy to like, easy to get to know, easy to find yourself telling things too. That was why, after the first few weeks, when Mrs. Evans had let him know he didn't have to come see her anymore, he had declined her offer to continue anyway. Bad things happened to people he got close to.

Téa had dumped her mat in the center of the floor and was poking around the room, looking at the different things on the wall and the shelves. "Look at all this stuff." She picked up a squishy ball out of a basket full of them and bounced it lightly in her hand. "What does she do with all of it?"

Suddenly, her attention caught on the pile of clutter around the desk. "Hey, board games!" She knelt and rummaged through the stuff, unearthing a stack of colorful boxes. "_Monopoly_, _Life_, _Apples to Apples_…" Her eyes twinkled. "_Truth or Dare_! I haven't played this since I was in middle school!" A mischievous grin lit her face. "I think I found something for us to do."

Something like electricity crackled through Ryou's veins, but whether it was a warning or a promise, he couldn't say.


	5. Chapter 5

"Truth."

Ryou squirmed a little as he read from the card. "Have you ever gone skinny-dipping?"

Téa blushed. "Yeah," she admitted, giggling a little. "One time. Don't tell anybody, okay?" She winked at him.

"Ah, no, of course not," Ryou mumbled, hardly able to form coherent sentences around the image that formed in his mind. He couldn't meet Téa's eyes.

"Your turn," Téa said. "Truth or dare?"

Ryou thought for a second. "Truth."

"Okay, then." Téa drew the card and read it aloud. "Have you ever stolen anything?"

"No!" he blurted too quickly and vehemently. Then, "Yes. Maybe. I don't know."

Téa laughed. "How can you not know something like that?"

Ryou met her eyes miserably. A long, charged silence passed between them.

"Oh," Téa breathed, all laughter gone from her voice. "Right." Both of them dropped their eyes. No one said anything for a while.

Finally, Ryou broke the uncomfortable silence. "Your turn, I guess." He reached for the previous card, to discard it, but his hand shook and knocked into the "Truth" pile. The top card fell, face up.

_"Do you have a crush on someone in this room?"_ it asked.

Ryou's face went hot and he hoped desperately his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. He desperately tried to control the shaking of his hand as he picked it up to put it back on top of the pile.

Téa giggled. "That's not fair. It's supposed to be a mystery what card I'll get if I pick 'Truth.' We'll have to shuffle the deck."

"Ah, okay." Ryou watched as she suited action to words. His heart thumped in his chest. That card... What if, despite all that shuffling, what if Téa still got that card? What would she say? He stared down at his hands, trying hard not to let his emotions show on his face. He knew what her answer would almost certainly be, but there was that _almost_. No, she wouldn't. She didn't. It was impossible. But _what if…_

… What if _he_ got that card?

Ryou squirmed at the unexpected thought. No, he _couldn't_. That would be too embarrassing for words. He'd have to pick Dare from now on, to make sure it couldn't happen.

For the whole game? He couldn't do that either. Who knew what kind of weird stuff he'd have to do. Besides, Téa would think he was hiding something. He'd have to risk it. It would be okay. The chances of drawing it would be slim.

But not impossible. It could happen. He wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks. He'd have to lie, if it came to it. There was just no way he could admit the truth. But no, he couldn't lie to Téa. Besides, she'd know it. He was a terrible liar.

_Lying is easy,_ a dark voice whispered. _All you do is say what they already want to believe. _

Ryou shoved the voice back as hard as he could. "Truth or dare, Téa?" He tried to keep the tremor out of his voice.

Téa's eyes flickered down to the freshly shuffled deck of cards, then up to meet his. She smirked. "Dare."

Ryou drew the card. He blinked. _Did that say…?_ He read it again. And again. Heat seared his veins. He couldn't make his mouth work.

"Read it," said Téa impatiently.

Slowly, half-wishing the floor would swallow him up, half-filled with a longing he could hardly define, he started to read. "Kiss the person of your choice who is playing this game with you." Despite himself, his eyes flickered up to watch her reaction.

Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed bright pink. "Oh," she said softly.

"L-look," Ryou stuttered. "Y-you don't have to…"

But she was already leaning in towards him, her eyes half-closed and her hair falling over her face, delicately tracing the curve of her cheekbones. His mouth dried and his throat felt so tight that no sound could escape. His heart hammered against his ribcage.

There was barely a hand's breadth between them now. He could feel her breath gently stirring on his face. His own breath came in fits and spurts, as if his lungs couldn't figure out how to work properly.

Suddenly, Téa looked up and met his eyes. "You don't _mind_, do you?" she asked in a breathless kind of rush.

"M-mind?" he stammered. "Of c-course not."

"Good." No sooner had the word escaped her lips than she closed the distance between them.

Ryou had daydreamed about this moment hundreds of times, fantasizing about how it would feel, what she might taste like. The real thing blew him away.

Her lips were petal-soft, dewy as a rosebud after a rainstorm. But the way they pressed against his mouth, hot and insistent… there was nothing _soft_ about that. For an instant, he was frozen, overwhelmed by shock and the flood of new and wonderful sensations storming over him. Then her mouth shifted against his, sending a fresh wave of scorching pleasure crashing through his senses. All of his reserve crumbled in an instant.

Blood pounded through his brain, drowning out thought as he began to move against her, mouth now seeking, now demanding, hands slowly moving to touch her shoulders. His fingers twisted in her hair and he could not think of how they had come there, only how soft and silky the strands felt against his skin. The smell of her flooded his nostrils, sweet, vaguely floral, and overwhelmingly feminine. His hand moved to cup her cheek, fingers dancing over the soft skin as he leaned in deeper.

It wasn't just mouths and hands touching now; it was their whole bodies. Every inch of Ryou's body pulsed with heat as the lush curves of her hips and breasts pressed against him. Every movement, every twist and turn of her body brought an almost unbearable wave of pleasure through his body. Her mouth opened against his and a low sound vibrated through his body. For just an instant, he savored the wild, sweet taste of her—and then she pulled away.

They stared at each other—both flushed and panting—for an interminable second. Ryou's head still reeled from that kiss, his blood still racing with the heat of it. But the shock in Téa's blue eyes was sobering him up quickly. The tingling heat in his veins drained away, leaving him numbingly cold. Just as he thought he could bear it no more and was opening his mouth to speak, Téa flushed from head to toe and turned away. She shook her head slowly. "Bakura," she began haltingly, as if just his name was difficult to say. "I… that…"

Ryou couldn't take it. "S-sorry!" he stammered as he tore blindly from the room. Behind him, he heard her gasp in shock, but she didn't call him back or try to stop him. _Sorry,_ he told her again, but only in thought because his throat was too tight for him to speak.

A mistake. A horrible, awful mistake. She'd kissed him, and he'd let himself forget completely why she was doing it—not because she wanted to, not because she liked him that way, but just because a stupid card had told her to. And now he'd taken advantage of her and upset everything between them. And the worst part was, he couldn't quite bring himself to wish it hadn't happened.


	6. Chapter 6

Téa stared after Bakura's fleeing figure. She was paralyzed with shock; she couldn't move or even cry out.

_What have I done? _

The door banged shut, leaving her alone. She buried her face in her hands. How could she be such an idiot?

A kiss. It wasn't such a complicated thing, now, was it? All she had to do was pucker up and plant her lips on his for a few seconds. There. Dare completed, challenge met, and extreme awkwardness averted.

Only she had to try and _prove _something, whether to herself or to Bakura, she wasn't quite sure. Nor was she positive about just what she was trying to prove. Maybe it was that she wasn't a coward, or that she wasn't a bad kisser, or that she didn't mind it being Bakura (because he seemed so ridiculously, adorably embarrassed about the whole thing), or something else that she couldn't even put into words. All she knew was that she had decided, suddenly and irrevocably, to _really_ kiss him.

Only, what had happened was beyond anything that had even entered her head.

Heat surged to her face. When their lips connected, the electricity that crackled between them had caught her completely by surprise. She hadn't been thinking at all, just blindly obeying the demands of the fire in her veins, consumed with her desire for more and more.

It wasn't her first kiss, but none of the quick pecks she'd given boys for one reason or another had been anything like this had been. She touched a hand to her still-burning cheek. It was just too strange to think that it had been _Bakura_ she had been kissing, _Bakura_ igniting that wild blaze in her blood. She'd imagined, in her private fantasies, Yugi's other self kissing her, touching her like that, or even Yugi himself, occasionally, or a boy band singer, or movie star, or—once or twice, though she hated to admit it even to herself—even Kaiba.

But Bakura? She'd never once thought of him that way. He was just a friend. A good friend, she insisted defensively, even as the thought formed that he wasn't really a _close_ friend. Bakura was a hard person to be close to. There was always a guardedness to him, a reserve, a distance that he never quite let close.

…There hadn't been any "distance" between him and her just a few minutes ago. Téa blushed all over again. But it was true. If there had been any reserve in the way Bakura had responded to her, it had melted away almost at once. There had been nothing but heat and passion between them. Téa closed her eyes, savoring again the memory of the stolen moment of unbridled desire. It had felt _so_ good…

And now it was over, and Bakura was utterly mortified.

Her eyes opened and her mind snapped back to the problem at hand. Téa had no idea how she was going to patch things up with him. How did you even apologize for something like that without digging yourself deeper? Or was it just better to let him be, and hope that as time passed, his embarrassment would die down and he would come back?

Téa hugged her arms to her chest, feeling a sudden chill. She didn't want to be all alone in this deserted place.

* * *

><p>Bakura ran blindly, blundering down corridor after darkened corridor. He had no idea where he was going, and he didn't care. If he slowed, the thoughts started to catch up with him, and he couldn't bear that. So he ran, faster and faster, until the pain in his side and the burn in his legs pushed every other thought out.<p>

But he couldn't run forever. At last, his legs gave out and he flung himself against the nearest wall. His sides heaved as he gasped and sputtered for breath. For a few minutes, it was enough to distract him. But all too soon, the pain and the breathlessness faded, leaving an opening for all the thoughts and emotions to rush back in.

Embarrassment came first, with shame hot on its heels. His fists clenched and he cringed against the wall. How had he let this happen? How had he let himself get so carried away? If she hadn't pulled away, he could have gone on kissing her forever. Heaven help him, but he still wanted to. His mouth longed for the heat of Téa's against it. His fingers itched to feel the silk of Téa's hair.

With effort, he pulled his thoughts away. He forced himself to think about what he'd been avoiding all this time. What was Téa doing now? What was she thinking? What was she feeling? Was she furious with him? Was she humiliated? Disgusted? Was she laughing the whole thing off? He had no idea. The only way to find out was to go back, but he knew he couldn't face her.

_You did nothing wrong. _

Ryou tensed wearily as the foreign thoughts slid across his, too tired and overwhelmed to push it away. _He_ had never offered comfort or assurance before, at least not without some kind of personal end in sight. Ryou did not think he was about to start now.

_You wanted her. Why should you not have the things you want? _

Ryou's knuckles tightened. "What I _want_ is for you to go away and leave me alone," he said aloud, knowing that in this empty hallway there was no one to hear.

Dark laughter washed over Ryou's mind. _You don't mean that. You have never meant that._

"I do!" Ryou protested. "I want you to go!"

_But you_ need _me, dear little Ryou._ The voice sounded amused and not at all threatened by Ryou's vehement words.

"_I_ don't _need you,_" Ryou insisted.

_Of course you do. You lack the will to act, the will to take the things you want. If it were left to you, you'd mope around here for a while, feeling guilty about a perfectly good kiss, and then eventually make your way back to the girl, blushing and stammering and generally making an idiot of yourself, and swearing to be a perfect gentleman from now on._

Ryou reddened, but did not protest.

_But what you_ should_ do is march right back to that girl without saying a word and kiss her senseless._ _That will clear things right up for her. _A lecherous kind of chuckle echoed in the shadows of his mind.

Ryou was horrified. "What? No!"

_Don't be such a cream puff_, the voice mocked. _It's just what she wants. I could tell by the way she kissed you. She's just dying for someone to show her what a real man is._ There was an inaudible, but distinctly felt, snort. _I suppose you'll have to do._

"But…no! I would never!"

_Of course you wouldn't. _The voice sounded vaguely exasperated. _That's why I'll have to do it for you._


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and fans. I really appreciate the positive feedback.

* * *

><p>The library was quiet. Too quiet. Every creak of the carpeted floor, every whir of the antiquated heating system, every rustle of turning pages made Téa want to jump out of her skin.<p>

She tried to focus on the words on the page in front of her, but she kept glancing up to look all around her, as if to make sure she really was alone. She shook her head. She was being ridiculous, she knew that. But the silence was making her flesh crawl.

She dragged her eyes back to the book. If she was going to be stuck here all Friday—or even longer, an inner voice groaned—then she'd better get her paper done. It wasn't like she had anything better to do, after all. Her eyes skimmed over the lines.

_PUTNAM: It is a providence the thing is out now! It is a providence._

_PARRIS: What's out, sir, what's…?  
><em>

_PUTNAM: (Looking down at Betty.) Why, her eyes is closed! Look you, Ann.  
><em>

_GOODY PUTNAM: Why, that's strange. Ours is open._

The words seemed flat and boring as she read them silently to herself. She thought wistfully of how she and Bakura had read the lines aloud together. It had made the story so much more alive and understandable. Experimentally, she read the next words aloud, Parris' line. "Your Ruth is sick?"

"I'd not call it sick," a voice came from behind her. "The Devil's touch is heavier than sick."

Téa whirled. "B-Bakura!" Heat rushed to her face. "You came in so quietly," she said in a rush. "I didn't hear you."

"It is death, you know," he said softly, his eyes burning like embers. For a moment, Téa was almost afraid—afraid of Bakura, his strange words, and the strange light in his eyes. "It's death driving into them, forked and hoofed." He paused, as if waiting for her to say something.

_The lines,_ Téa realized suddenly, and she let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. _He's saying the lines. _Her eyes dropped to the page and she read, haltingly, "Oh, pray not! Why, how does Ruth fare?"

"She ails as she must," Bakura replied, not missing a beat. "She never waked this morning, but her eyes open and she walks, and hears naught, see naught, and cannot eat." Though he quoted the lines perfectly, his tone wasn't the hysterical whine Téa imaged Goody Putnam using. It was quiet instead, smooth as molasses, yet dripping intensity. "Her soul is taken, surely."

A shiver ran down Téa's spine. With an effort, she turned it into a laugh. "I didn't know you were so familiar with _The Crucible,_ Bakura," she said, her voice a little artificially bright.

He chuckled, but somehow it wasn't a pleasant sound. "It's a very fascinating play," he said, stepping closer, "about the human capacity for evil."

Téa suppressed a shudder. "I don't think that's the only thing it's about." She closed the book and laid it down, suddenly grateful for the barrier of the desk between them. "Are you all right, Bakura? You seem a little… odd."

"Never better."

"So, we're okay, right?" Téa edged as close as she dared to the elephant in the room. She watched his reaction closely.

"Why wouldn't we be?" He smiled. Was it her imagination or was that smile slightly predatory?

She bit her lip. "No reason. It's just, when you left so suddenly, I thought maybe you were upset." She was being paranoid. The silence and solitude had been creeping her out since they'd discovered they were snowed it. That was no reason to let her imagination run away with her.

Still, she couldn't quite help but flinch when he took another step towards her. "No, I'm not upset, my dear. Not upset at all."

She frowned. "Don't call me that." Alarm bells clanged in her head and this time she didn't try to shut them up. The way he was regarding her was downright unsettling. One kiss had turned him into some kind of crazed stalker? No, that wasn't reasonable. But ever since he'd walked into the room, he'd seem like….

…a whole different person.

Téa couldn't stop the gasp that ripped from her throat. A half-remembered memory rushed over her: Bakura's face, twisted in an evil sneer, looming over her, the other Yugi's glaring back at him, she and her friends dressed as Duel Monsters… There were other memories too, more insubstantial and confused… shadows and firelight… someone—Pegasus?—chanting… Bakura… a flash of light… nothing but darkness…. Her head spun, and she shook it to clear it. It couldn't be…

She stared up at Bakura, her eyes automatically going to his chest. Nothing. No Millennium Ring, not even a suspicious outline under his uniform jacket or a telltale glint of gold. Of course not. It was gone. Tristan had gotten tossed it away back in Duelist Kingdom. A weight dropped from her chest and she began to breathe regularly.

"Is something wrong?" Bakura asked.

Téa shook her head. "I was just being silly." She hugged her arms to her chest. "I think all this isolation is starting to mess with my head. Like _Cast Away_."

"We've been alone for less than an hour," Bakura pointed out, amused. "Insanity generally takes a little longer than that to develop. Still, maybe I shouldn't leave you alone anymore."

A tiny chill shivered down Téa's spine, but she dismissed it. She was done indulging her childish fears and daydreams—nightmares? daymares? She grinned at her own idiocy. "We could keep going through the play," she suggested. "I'm not even halfway through Scene One."

"If you like." He moved beside her, reaching for the book. "Mind if I share? I'm afraid I don't have all of it memorized."

It wasn't sharing the book with him that Téa minded. It was his proximity and the way it set her spine tingling and her mind racing in a dozen directions at once. But she couldn't very well say that, so she simply nodded. It was next to impossible to keep her mind on the lines she was reading when one part of her mind was remembering the kiss they had shared not long ago, while another part tried to block it out, and yet another part was still trying to figure out what it was that seemed so vaguely threatening about him. She managed to muddle through somehow, although her grasp on the play's events was tenuous at best. She'd probably have to go back and finish watching the movie after all.

She sighed and didn't quite manage to stifle it. Bakura looked at her. "Bored?" he asked, raising a snowy eyebrow.

"I'm just a little lost, I guess," she admitted. "They're still arguing about the witchcraft, right? What to do about it?"

"More or less."

"Is it going to be like for the whole play?" She knew she sounded whiny and not at all like the straight A student who blazed her way through half the library's classics section over summer vacation. It was just too hard to follow the play's plot and the ramblings of her own unruly thoughts.

"It will pick up soon," he assured her. "Let's keep reading, shall we? If she starts for the window, cry for me at once."

The abrupt transition back into the play made her smile. "Yes, Uncle."

They fell back into the rhythm of the script, Bakura reading for all the characters except Abigail. No more was his tone dark and detached from the characters. He was arrogant and almost giggly for Mercy—Téa could almost recognize the voices of some of the local popular girls—, soft-spoken and cowed for Mary Warren, warbling and hysterical for Betty. His acting challenged her to better with her own, so she pushed aside her confusing and conflicting thoughts and focused on delivering the lines with all the emotion she could muster. They were ugly lines sometimes, and she disliked hearing her own voice say them.

"You did! You did!" Bakura chirruped in Betty's crazed, childish voice. "You drank a charm to kill John Proctor's wife! You drank a charm to kill Goody Proctor!"

"Shut it! Shut it now!" Téa screamed. She was half-terrified to feel how deeply she meant the words.

"Mama! Mama!" cried Bakura, but the words were not so convincing. His attention seemed to be focused on Téa now. He was smiling.

"Now look you. All of you. We danced. And Tituba conjured Ruth Putnam's dead sisters. And that is all." Her voice was harsh and pitiless. "And mark this—let either of you breathe a word, or the edge of a word about the other things, and I will come to you in the black of some terrible night and I will bring a pointy reckoning that will shudder you. She drew a deep, shuddering breath and let her voice grow low and threatening. "And you know I can do it. I saw Indians smash my dear parents' heads on the pillow next to mine, and I have seen some reddish work done at night, and I can make you wish you had never seen the sun go down!"

"Bravo." Bakura clapped his hands. His smile had widened into a grin. It was an unsettling expression, somehow, and not cheerful at all.

Téa hugged her arms to her chest. "I'm not sure I like Abigail anymore." Bakura frowned at this, but she went on. "She's so… violent. There's something evil about her. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I'm starting to feel it." She shivered. "Maybe we should take a break."

"Hold on." He smiled suddenly. "Things are about to get interesting." With a long, pale finger, he traced the next words. "Enter John Proctor."

* * *

><p><em>What are you doing?<em> Ryou hissed. He railed impotently against the spirit that had taken over his body against his will.

An amused chuckle echoed through the shadowy recesses of his mind. _What does it look like? _Aloud, he said, "Go ahead, Téa. It's your line."

Téa's expression was hard to read, not because it was empty but because it was full. Her cheeks flushed, her mouth puckered uncertainly, her eyebrows arched, and her eyes were wide. Trying to pick out the specific emotions flitting across her face was like trying to pick out the individual threads of a tapestry.

Her eyes fell to the page as she read, slowly and softly, "Gah, I'd almost forgot how strong you are, John Proctor."

Ryou could feel the annoyance flash through his mind, but the spirit betrayed none of it as he spoke, in a passable imitation of Ryou's own voice, "Try to get into the lines, Téa." His voice deepened and roughened. "What's this mischief here?"

"Oh, she's only gone silly some-how." Téa squirmed uncomfortably. Ryou could see her eyes travel down the page, skimming ahead. Her cheeks flushed a brighter shade of red.

He flung himself against the mental barriers.. The spirit merely laughed as Ryou collapsed in a heap. _Get out of my head,_ Ryou screamed at him. _Get out of my body. _

_No._ He leaned in closer to Téa. "The road past my house is a pilgrimage to Salem all morning," he read. His eyes flicked up to hers. "The town's mumbling witchcraft."

"Oh, posh." The stage directions called for a confident, knowing tone, but Téa's voice trembled almost imperceptibly. "We were dancin' in the woods last night, and my uncle leaped in on us. She took fright, is all."

The spirit chuckled, not just in Ryou's mind, but out loud. He bent close to Téa. His voice was low, smooth as melted butter. "Ah, you're wicked yet, aren't you!"

Ryou saw the tremor go through her, the red mount in her cheeks, and the look in her eyes shift. _Leave Téa alone._

_This is what you _want,_ little one._

_No._

_But it is. You can't lie to me. _

_No! Leave her alone. _ Ryou put every ounce of strength into one last desperate struggle.

And was rebuffed, as easily as if he were made of paper.

Dark laughter floated over his consciousness. The last thing he was aware of, before the last vestiges of strength ebbed from his mind and the shadows overtook him, was his body—but his no longer—leaning in and claiming Téa's lips.


	8. Chapter 8

Téa's heart hammered in her chest as Bakura leaned in towards her. She'd always thought of Bakura as sort of scrawny, but looming over her now he seemed different than she'd remembered. Bigger. Stronger. Older. His eyes were different too. They were sharper, darker. They didn't so much look at her as look through her. She couldn't quite put her finger on what made the difference, but she knew it was there, felt it with every fiber of her being.

Alarm bells clanged in her head again, but this time she wasn't sure if she wanted to flee.

He was so near now. The scent of him washed over her—spicy, masculine. _Cedar?_ she wondered abstractedly. Whatever it was, it was wreaking havoc on her senses. She wanted more of it—to lean in and bury herself against that skin. Her skin blazed. Her mouth watered. Her fingers itched to stroke that soft white hair. Restraining them took her full concentration.

So when Bakura's mouth descended on hers, it took her completely by surprise.

Shock tingled through every pore of her body. Téa recoiled. She pushed against his chest, stumbling backwards. The solid wood of the desk hit the back of her thighs. A tiny gasp escaped her lips.

Bakura's hands landed on the desk, his arms on either side of her. The heat of his body surrounded her. His eyes met hers, dark and glittering, for one heart-stopping instant. Then, his mouth descended on hers once more.

Téa saw it coming this time, but she couldn't stop it anymore than she could stop the blood racing in her veins.

His kiss was not the heated frenzy she had half-expected. His mouth moved deliberately against hers, as if to savor every molecule of her lips, scorching her slowly. There was no tenderness in it. It was a conquest. He was claiming her, deliberately marking her with his kiss, branding her with his touch.

His kiss sent fire spiraling through her senses, but a fire of a different kind had kindled within her. Anger burned in her chest. _How dare he?_ How dare he treat her this way, as if she were his for the taking?

She tried to jerk away, but he pressed his body against hers, forcing her back against the desk. His arms held fast on either side of her, trapping her in. She squirmed, trying to escape, but that only seemed to encourage him. His mouth shifted more insistently over hers. The wet warmth of his tongue flicked along the join of her lips, seeking entrance. Desire licked through her veins, burning hotter than anger for just an instant. She kept her lips sealed, but it shocked her how much she wanted to cave to that intoxicating sensation, how easy it would be to surrender.

As if sensing her weakness, he leaned into her, pressing the hard angles of his body into her curves. The heat of him was inescapable. It seared the air around them. It ignited her skin where they touched. It blazed inside of her, mingling with her own heat, building to an unbearable inferno.

One hand left the desk, caressing the swell of her hip and breast, and then tangling in her hair. He pulled her mouth closer, even as his body pushed her up against the desk. She shifted against him to relieve the strain and found her bottom resting on the edge of the desk. It was more comfortable, but just for an instant. As soon as she relaxed just a little, he was following her with his body, leaning in, pushing her back, until the back of her head hit the solid oak of the desk.

All at once, the haze of desire lifted and she realized her peril. Bakura loomed over her, his eyes dark and predatory. "Mine," he whispered as he leaned in to claim her mouth again.

Fury blazed up in her, hotter than his touch. She slapped him as hard as she could. Unfortunately, due to the awkward position of her arm, that wasn't very hard at all. Still, it seemed to stun him for a moment, and that was all she needed. While he blinked and shook his head dazedly, Téa brought her knee up. She got more of his gut than the sensitive area she was aiming for, but it was enough. She shoved him off of her while he groaned and clutched himself. Her instincts told her she should run now while he couldn't follow, but she was too angry to listen.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded, towering over the slumped figure on the ground. Bakura made an unintelligible noise in response. "For your information, one kiss does _not_ give you permission to take whatever you want."

Ryou stared up at her, trying to block out the pain throbbing through his body. Trust the Spirit to give him control back as soon as there was pain, not pleasure, to be had. "Sorry!" he gasped brokenly. "I'm so, so sorry, Téa!" He choked back a strangled sob. "It wasn't…I didn't.. I would never…" His throat closed around the words he had to say. He had to tell her, had to make her understand that this wasn't what he had wanted, that he would never in a million years have done something like that to her. But would she believe him, even if he could find the words to tell her? And if she did believe him, she would be appalled by the idea that the Spirit could take over at any time and threaten her again. How could she ever trust him again?

She _should_ be appalled. The Spirit _could_ take over at any time. Ryou hung his head as he remembered how miserably he had failed to stop him. She _shouldn't_ trust him.

He didn't trust himself.

She was staring at him now, as if seeing him anew. The anger slowly faded from her eyes, replaced by a grim realization. "That wasn't you, was it?" It wasn't really a question. At least, it wasn't a question that expected an answer.

Ryou bowed his head. Tears of shame welled up in his eyes. He blinked them back. "I tried to stop him," he whispered. "I swear I tried as hard as I could."

"Stop who?" Téa's voice was soft. She was frowning as if she were trying to recall something out of a half-forgotten dream. "…the spirit…?"

Slowly, Ryou nodded. "The Spirit of the Millennium Ring." He spat the words out as if they were poison. _My treasure_, he thought bitterly as he slowly got to his feet. _My most cherished possession._ He wished he'd never seen the damn thing.

Téa's face cleared and she nodded. But a moment later, her brow puckered. "But...you're not wearing the Ring," she pointed out. "Tristan told us he pitched it back in Duelist Kingdom."

"Yes, I know." Ryou rubbed his temple and added bitterly, "It doesn't matter. I can still feel him inside my mind, like a splinter too deep to pull out. It's…" he trailed off. Téa was looking at him intensely. Well, not so much at _him_ as at his chest. Ryou's cheeks went hot. "T-Téa?"

She took a step towards him, and then another, and another, until she was just inches away. The concentrated expression never left her face. Her hand went to his collar. Then, with a sudden frenzy, she was undoing his buttons.

Ryou's face flamed. "W-what are you _doing?_"

"Aha!" Téa undid the last of the buttons and ripped his jacket open. A bright glint of gold flashed. Ryou's heart sank to his toes. There, around his neck, hung the Millennium Ring.


	9. Chapter 9

Ryou stared down at the Millennium Ring on his chest, unable to believe his eyes. Now that he saw it, he could feel it too: the weight of the heavy gold, the chill of the metal through his thin undershirt, the bit of the leather cord into his neck. Yet just a moment ago, he had felt nothing. He would have laughed at anyone who suggested he was wearing anything at all around his neck, let alone the Ring. He rubbed at his forehead. As his hand fell, it brushed against the Ring. Ryou flinched at the familiar feel of its cold spikes.

How had it gotten here? He wracked his brain. He remembered showering and getting dressed this morning. He'd swear he hadn't been wearing it, not this or any other morning. He knew he'd never put it on. But there it was, gleaming in the pale light of the library, like a figment straight out a horror movie—the one that played through his nightmares each night. He shook his head. "It's not possible. It can't be…How…?"

"Does it matter?" Téa was already tugging at the leather cord around his neck. She lifted the Ring over his head. "The important thing now is to get rid of it." She ran to the window. "Help me get this thing open."

Together, they forced the window open. Téa stared down at the snowy morass below. "Do you want to do the honors?"

Ryou shivered. "You do it." He didn't trust himself to touch the Ring. He wanted it gone; he knew that. But what if, when the moment came, he drew his hand back? What if he couldn't let it go?

Téa shrugged and hurled the Ring out the window. Ryou watched it sail through the air and disappear into the blinding white. _Gone_. He let out a long breath. A tiny twinge of regret snuck its way in through all the relief, but Ryou shoved the feeling away. He turned away.

"You alright?" Téa was looking at him curiously.

Ryou flashed her a shaky smile. "Yeah."

She smiled back at him. "C'mon, let's find something to eat. I'm not exactly sure what time it is, but my stomach says it's dinner time."

* * *

><p>Dinner turned out to be hot dogs, fished out of the freezer and boiled on top of a Bunsen burner in the Chemistry lab. Téa had refused to fiddle with the stoves in the kitchen on the basis that something might explode. There was a curious inconsistency to her logic, Ryou felt, but didn't point out. He ate his hot dog (the bun defrosted in the teacher's lounge microwave) in silence and inwardly resolved to do any more cooking that might be required.<p>

Neither of them said much. They had too much on their minds for idle conversation, but the things that were on their minds were better left unsaid.

Finally, Ryou broke the silence with what he judged to be the tamest of the elephants in the room. "How much longer would do you think we'll be stranded here?" he said.

Téa sighed and glanced out the window. Ryou followed her gaze. The sky was already darkening from chalkdust grey to a sort of frosty-looking slate. The violent storm of earlier had mostly abated, but white flakes still trickled from the sky. That wasn't the important part, though. At this point, the snow hardly mattered. It was the ice that would trap them in.

"Overnight, at least," Téa said, mirroring his thoughts. "After that, who knows? It all depends on the weather and when exactly the city decides to send the snowplows over here. Digging out a school won't be the highest priority on a weekend."

"But surely," Ryou protested, "once they realize we're trapped here…" He trailed off at the look in Téa's eyes. "No one knows we're trapped here, do they?"

Téa shrugged. "I couldn't say with certainty. But my best guess is no, they don't."

Ryou tried again. "But people are bound to notice we're missing…"

Téa shook her head again. "Look outside. Everything's shut down. It'll be that way tomorrow too; bet you anything. The dance studio won't open, Mama Gina's will be closed…"

"And your parents? Won't they worry when you don't come home?"

Téa stiffened. For a long time, she didn't answer. Finally, she said, "To be honest, my parents aren't around all that much. They don't really care where I go or what I do. "

"Still, they're bound to notice eventually that you're not at home. They'll worry then. I mean, it's a blizzard out there!" Ryou gestured towards the window. "You couldn't exactly be hanging out at the mall."

Téa bit her lip. "When I went with Yugi to Duelist Kingdom, I didn't tell them what I was doing. I didn't know how to explain it to them and I didn't think they'd care. I just left. Didn't even tell them I was going." She stared fixedly at the periodic table on the opposite wall. "I was gone for four days."

"They weren't mad?" Ryou guessed. "They didn't care?"

She drew in a long breath. "They didn't even notice I was gone."

Ryou winced. "Ouch."

"Yeah." Téa's voice was quiet. Her face was shuttered, but the grim line of her mouth said enough.

Ryou wanted to reach out and touch her shoulder, but he knew the gesture would be misconstrued. "I'm sorry," he said

"It could be worse," Téa said, with a forced kind of shrug. "Just look at Joey's family. He hasn't so much as spoke to his mom in years. Until he told us about Serenity's eye problems, I'd never heard him so much as mention his mom or his sister. And his dad…" Téa shook his head. "In the grand scheme of things, my family isn't much to complain about." She tossed her hair in an apparent display of nonchalance that didn't fool Ryou for a second. "My parents might not pay much attention to me, but I've always been taken care of. They'd never do anything to hurt me."

"Except ignore you." The words came out before Ryou could stop them. He met Téa's eyes. "I know how much it can hurt when the people who mean most to you don't seem to care." He looked down, remembering the days right after the accident, when his father's glazed stare seemed to pass right through him. He looked up to find Téa watching him. She gave him a tiny nod of understanding. Ryou drew a deep breath. "Did I ever tell you about my sister?"

Téa's blue eyes widened. "Sister?" She shook her head. "I didn't know you have a sister."

"Had." Ryou bit his lip against the stab of pain in his chest. "I had a sister."

Téa's eyes were soft and round. "Tell me about her," she whispered.

"She was wonderful. We were inseparable, as close as two peas in a pod." Ryou closed his eyes and he could see her: dancing brown eyes and slice of melon smile, her pale hair an unruly halo around her face. So happy, so full of life. He opened his eyes and tried to smile. "Her name was Amane."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I've been trying very hard to update at least once a week. But the next two weeks (last weeks of school) are going to be extremely hectic, and I'm not sure I can keep up the pace. If you don't hear from me, rest assured that the story has not been abandoned and that it will be continued during the summer.

* * *

><p><em>Amane.<em>

The name was utterly unfamiliar to Téa, but the three soft syllables rolled off Bakura's tongue like a prayer. She leaned in, listening intently as Bakura spoke, haltingly describing the sister she had never known he had. His brown eyes glowed with a light she hadn't seen before. "You loved her very much," she said softly.

Bakura nodded. The light in his eyes dimmed with sadness. "Yes," he said heavily. "Yes, I did."

"What happened to her?" she couldn't help but ask. "How did she die?"

Bakura looked away. "It was a car accident," he said at last. "Drunk driver. Both Amane and my mother were killed." The words were flat as if all the life had been sucked out of them long ago.

"Bakura," Téa whispered. She drew a little closer. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

The line of Bakura's mouth squeezed a little tighter. "I know," he said at last. "I don't talk about it. I haven't told anyone else."

"You mean you haven't talked about it since you came to Domino?" Téa thought about Joey. They'd been friends nearly a year before he'd told her and Yugi about Serenity and her illness.

But Bakura was shaking his head. "No, I mean ever." He looked up at her. He looked paler than usual, his eyes huge and dark. "I've never told anyone."

"_What?"_ Téa couldn't help but stare at him. _"Why?"_

Bakura shrugged his shoulders, dropping his eyes and looking distinctly uncomfortable. "At first, everyone knew. I couldn't escape the _knowing_—the pitying looks, the awkward silences, the platitudes, the adults always hovering, trying to be kind, the kids always avoiding me, not knowing what to say. Everyone always watching me, staring and pointing when they thought I couldn't see, whispering to each other, 'There's the boy whose sister died.'" He drew a long, shaky breath. "It was even worse for Dad, I think. Or maybe for him it was the remembering—old memories lurking around every corner, jumping out at him unexpectedly. When we moved a few months later, he didn't tell anyone—not our neighbors, not his co-workers, not even my teachers." He bit his lip. "I wasn't going to be the one to tell them."

"And no one ever asked about your mom? Or noticed you were acting depressed or strange?"

Bakura shook his head. "No one noticed me at all. It was like I was invisible."

T éa winced. "How awful."

"Actually, it was a relief." Bakura sighed. "I was so tired of being pointed out, of being the freak. But it only lasted a few months. Dad had a nervous breakdown at work and had to switch jobs."

He lifted his head back up to meet her gaze. "It became a pattern with us. We never sat down and decided to keep it a secret. We just never talked about it. It wasn't hard. There was never anyone I wanted to tell. We never stayed in one place long enough for me to make any real friends."

"Why?" Téa wanted to know.

"Ghosts." Bakura's gaze shifted across the room. His eyes looked far way, seeing beyond the beige walls and garish posters. "My father was haunted by them." Catching sight of Téa's shocked expression, he quickly amended, "I don't mean that my mother and sister actually haunted him…well, my mother, maybe. But not Amane. She's at peace. I know that." His words were soft, spoken to himself and not to Téa. She had to lean in close to catch them. She didn't dare interrupt, not even to ask the questions that were burning in her mind.

_Why would Bakura's mother haunt his father? Why is he so sure his sister wouldn't? _

Bakura recollected himself. "I think it was the memories. He could leave our home, he could leave everyplace that they had ever been, but he couldn't leave the memories behind. He tried, though. He buried himself in his work, staying late at the office, bringing work home. He'd go on more digs and stay longer. I think it was hard for him to see me. He tried to avoid me as much as he could."

Téa made a tiny sound of horror. Bakura turned towards her, an odd, bitter smile twisting his mouth. "You think that's horrible; I can tell. But try to see it from his perspective. I was like the living embodiment of everything he was trying to push into the past, a constant reminder of his pain. It was much easier to just stay away."

"Easier for him maybe," Téa said stonily, "but what about you? Who were you supposed to turn to?"

He fiddled with the buttons on his open jacket. "Amane…" he whispered. "She's the only one I had. And I didn't even have her, not really. Just the memories." He was silent for a moment. "I wrote letters to her," he said at last, his voice treacherously uneven. He bit his lip. "Still do, actually. I know that she's gone, and that if she's watching over me she can see for herself, but it helps. For just a bit I can imagine that she's just back home in England, with Mum, that I'm not really alone."

Bakura shut his eyes and Téa was startled to see tears beading on his eyelashes. His chest heaved as his breath came in long, shuddery gasps. "I'm sorry," he managed in a strangled voice. "I don't normally break down like this. It's just, I've never said any of this to anyone, and all of the sudden it all just…" his voice broke on the last words.

"Shhh." Téa pressed a finger to her lips as she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't. Just let it out. Breathe. Cry. Be however you want." She squeezed his shoulder. Slowly. Bakura relaxed against her. Téa closed her eyes. She could feel him shaking, feel the ragged breaths bursting from his chest.

She didn't know how long they sat there together, her arm around his shoulders, his head slumped against her, tears trickling silently down his face. She had no words for him, nothing to say to abate the grief and tragedy that wrapped palpably around him. Any words of comfort she could try to give him would sound trite and forced. So she said nothing. But that was alright. It wasn't words he needed. It was enough to sit here with him, to let him grieve and sob, and to let him know, without words, without speech, that she was here.

At last, Bakura raised his head off Téa's shoulder. He swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. "Sorry," he muttered. His voice sounded thin and tired. "I don't know what came over me. It was just talking about all those things that I've never said aloud before…" his voice started to crack and he trailed off.

Téa gave his shoulder a last squeeze before letting her hand fall back to her lap. "It's okay," she said softly. "You should talk about it more often," she added. "It isn't good to let things like that stay locked up inside you."

Bakura shook his head a little. "I never had anyone I could talk to about it."

Téa smiled up at him. "Now you have me."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: And it's back! Sorry for the summer hiatus, but I needed a break to write other things and refresh my ideas. Thanks for your patience.

Somewhere behind the masses of clouds, the sun set. As Téa and Ryou sat together in the quiet of the chemistry lab, the sky changed from frosted slate, to tarnished silver, to gunmetal. Before long, it would be completely black. When they had come up to the lab earlier, the bare fluorescent bulbs had seemed adequate, even if the light they cast was dingy and flickering. Now, as the lab grew dark, they threw sharp-edged shadows in odd, threatening shapes across the floor.

Téa hugged her arms to her chest. "Maybe we should go downstairs." The tiled floors and hard surfaces made her voice echo loudly. She wished she didn't sound quite so much like a scared little girl.

Ryou nodded. "If you want." He swung his long legs off the tall swivel chair. "Where do you want to go?"

Téa shrugged, hoping to camouflage her creeped-outness with a show of indifference. She hopped lightly out of her own chair. "It depends. What do you want to do?"

"Why do I have to decide?" Bakura protested.

Téa folded her arms across her chest. "Because all of my ideas have turned out to be singularly bad."

"Well, mine haven't exactly been stellar either," Bakura grumbled. He scratched his mop of white hair. "Uh… it's too early to go to sleep, right?"

"What do you think?" Téa gestured out the window. Bakura followed the wave of her hand with his gaze. "I'd say it's almost seven at the latest." She turned a teasing grin on him. "Is it past your bedtime?"

Bakura had the grace to look sheepish. "I guess it just feels later than it is. It's been a long day, after all. A lot has happened."

You could say that again, Téa thought ruefully. Heat bloomed on her cheeks as she considered everything that had happened. When she had headed off for school, she couldn't have imagined that in only hours she would not only be stranded at school in a snowstorm with only Bakura for company, but that she would actually _kiss_ Bakura, and then be kissed—and generally perved-on—by his creepy evil alter ego. To think that when she had woken up this morning she had thought it would just be an ordinary day!

She glanced up at Bakura. From the look in his eyes, sudden flush on his cheeks, and awkward shuffle of his feet, she guessed that his thoughts mirrored hers. She bit her lip. This day wasn't going to get any less awkward. And from the looks of the snowflakes still swirling through the dark sky, they weren't getting out of here any time soon.

Which brought her back to the question of just what they were going to do with all this time on their hands.

"Why do you have that smile on your face?" Bakura demanded. "Every time you smile like that, it means trouble for me."

* * *

><p>"I knew that smile was nothing but bad news."<p>

"Don't be such a baby, Bakura. Straighten up and stop squirming. I'm not going to tickle you or something."

"I know." Ryou bit his lip hard. But he still couldn't help but recoil a little when Téa went to put her hand on his. Téa rolled her eyes. Ryou's face flamed. When she tried again, he didn't resist.

"There, was that so hard?" Téa grinned, taking his other hand. She didn't wait for an answer, which was good, because all of Ryou's concentration was bent on dragging his attention away from the way her touch made his skin tingle and his heart race.

"Okay, so the first step in a foxtrot is called the Foxtrot Basic. All you do is take a step forward on your left foot, then one forward on your right. Then you step to the side and 'close' it, like this." Téa demonstrated the step. "See how I brushed my foot before I closed?" Ryou wasn't at all sure he saw, but he nodded anyway. "Okay, so now you try."

Ryou hesitated, but a pointed look from Téa made him screw up his courage. "Step, step, side," Téa chanted encouraging. She glided backwards, effortlessly matching his clumsy steps. "Step, step, side. Step, step, side."

After a few more repetitions, the movement began to feel natural. Ryou smiled. "Hey, I think I'm getting it! This isn't so bad."

"Pretty simple," Téa agreed. "Now let's try adding the next step."

Ryou groaned. "I had a bad feeling you were going to say that."

Téa laughed. Her nearness was intoxicating, making Ryou's head swim. "Okay, so the next step is called the Backwards Basic. It's exactly what it sounds like. We're going to do exactly what we just did, only this time _you're_ going to go backwards." Ryou's dismay must have shown in his face, because Téa laughed. "Don't worry. It's simple."

Sure it was. Ryou bit his lip in concentration as Téa counted off. "Back, back, side. Back, back side." He tried to follow the simple rhythm of her voice, but going backwards, his steps were awkward and unsure. His first step would be too shallow, his next one too deep. Even Téa, with her limitless grace, struggled to match him.

"I can't do this," Ryou complained, stopping dead in his tracks.

Téa stopped too, not even stumbling a little, despite the abruptness of the halt. "Of course you can. You just need more practice. It is a little awkward going blindly backwards. I didn't expect you to get it perfectly right on the first try."

"But why do I even have to learn it?" Ryou protested. He stepped away from Téa, throwing his hands up helplessly. "When am I ever going to foxtrot, Téa?"

"Here, with me," she returned primly. "Right now." At his plaintive expression, she unbent a little. "Aren't you planning to go to Prom? What about Homecoming? And the Valentine's dance?"

"I guess so," Ryou replied without much enthusiasm. School dances were a girl's fantasy—all those fancy dresses and glittery decorations did something for them, made them feel like they were the heroines of a sweeping romance, maybe. All Ryou could see about it was a long, awkward night of watery punch-unless somebody spiked it—, gaudy decorations, mindless music, and uncomfortable clothes. What was the point of it, unless you had someone to go with? Not just anyone, not just some warm body, but someone he actually cared to go with. Ryou knew he wouldn't have any problem finding a date for those events—his fangirls still stalked the halls of Domino High, although without as much aggression as before—but nobody that he truly wanted to go with.

"Well, there you go," Téa said, oblivious to his listless response.

"But, Téa, no one really dances at those things anyway. They just sort of sway." Ryou did his best solo imitation of a slow dance. Téa bit her lip, silently shaking with mirth. Ryou blushed and went back to standing, which was a much less embarrassing activity. "It's idiotic," he finished lamely.

"Precisely." Téa's eyes twinkled. "And so, if you don't want to look like one of those idiots, you'd better learn how to dance _properly._" She held out her hands. "Shall we try it again?"


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I just want to preemptively point out that the song lyrics in this chapter are in the public domain and so do not violate the guidelines. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>Téa and Ryou practiced together for a long time, Téa patiently walking him through the steps, and Ryou doing his best to grin and bear it. He had to admit that it did get easier as they went on. And there were definitely worse ways to pass the time then standing close to Téa, her hand on his arm, his waist, her face just inches away… Small wonder he found it so hard to concentrate on the steps.<p>

After Téa had taught Ryou the Forward Basic, Backward Basic, right and left Hesitation Turns, and the Left Box Turn, she pronounced him ready to try dancing with some music. She put a cd into the player. The strains of Frank Sinatra's _Fly Me to the Moon_ filled the gym. Great. Old person music.

Téa held out her hands to him and they took their position. Téa's eyes met his. She didn't say anything, but he could tell from the subtle nodding of her head that she was counting off the rhythm. She didn't move however. "What do I do?" Ryou whispered urgently. "How do I start?"

"The man leads," Téa reminded him. "I will follow you." She smiled. "However, I wouldn't mind if you started with a Forward Basic."

Ryou complied, stiffly. Téa frowned just a little. "Don't concentrate so hard on the steps. Feel the music. Let it flow through you."

"Just like the Force?" Ryou quipped. "I'm not exactly a Jedi." But he tried to relax and listen to the music instead of the blood pounding through his head. His palms felt clammy. He hoped that Téa didn't notice. Her touch on his arm was cool, confident. This was something she did all of the time, Ryou reminded himself. Dancing was what she did. It didn't mean anything to her, any more than throwing the ball to a catcher meant something to a pitcher.

Ryou drew a shaky breath. _Step, step, back,_ he chanted to himself. _Step, step, back._ Téa moved with him, grace itself. Every once in a while, he would look into her eyes and just for a second, he imagined they glowed bright. Something like electricity shot through his veins and Ryou felt like he could fly. But the flight was short-lived. Every time their eyes met, he would completely lose his train of thought and he would stumble and lose track of the beat. Ryou tried to keep his eyes on his feet._ Step, step, side. Step, step, side. _

"Relax." Téa whispered in his ear. She squeezed his arm lightly. "It's just a dance."

Hesitantly, Ryou brought his eyes up. He didn't quite meet her eyes, but the space between her eyebrows made for a good facsimile of it.

The slight hiss of exasperation from Téa told him that she didn't buy it, however. "Feel the beat," she told him. "Listen to the music."

Ryou took a few more faltering steps. Téa shook her head. "You're counting, not feeling."

"Of course I'm counting." Ryou struggled not to snap at her. "How else am I supposed to stay on the beat?"

"Like I told you: Feel the beat. Feel the music. Otherwise it's not dancing at all."

"Maybe I just can't feel it," retorted Ryou, frustrated. "Some people can't taste cinnamon. Some people can't roll their 'r's'. Maybe some people just can't feel music."

Téa's eyes narrowed. "Or maybe _some people_ just aren't applying themselves." She heaved a sigh. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

Téa rolled her eyes. "Would you just do it?"

"But…why?"

"Bakura."

"Oh, fine." Ryou shut his eyes, muttering just under his breath about impossible women.

"Now focus on the music," Téa intoned. "Let it flow through you."

"Okay, Obi-Wan." This was probably the dumbest thing Ryou had ever done. It was definitely the dumbest thing Téa had ever told him to do. Did she always teach dancing this way? All he could think was that she must have a bunch of kids bumping into each other on the dance floor.

Still, as long as he was humoring her, he might as well go all the way. Ryou let out a long breath. He stopped counting out the beat and let himself focus on the music and that awful crooning. As he did, the song started to grow on him. The jazzy trumpet wasn't bad and the rhythm was better than he'd thought. Instead of tuning out the sound of Sinatra's voice, which had always reminded him of one of those old fashioned milkshakes he'd never been able to take more than a few sips of—thick, smooth, and way too rich—he found himself listening to the words.

_Fill my heart with song._

_ Let me sing forevermore. _

Eyes still closed, Ryou began the steps Téa had taught him, not with carefully counted precision, but in time with the music as he heard it. He knew they were not the most graceful of steps, nor in perfect rhythm, but he didn't let himself dwell on it. He simply kept dancing. He couldn't see Téa moving with him, but he could feel the warmth of her touch on his arm and waist and hear the faint padding of her feet as she stepped. More than that, he could feel her there, as he could always feel her.

_You are all I long for._

_All I worship and adore._

The music flowed around them as Ryou guided Téa around the dance floor. He couldn't see where they were going—he trusted Téa to stop them if they were about to crash into a wall—but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the two of them, here in this moment, united by the music that surrounded them and simple steps of the dance.

_In other words, please be true. _

_In other words, I'm in love with you. _

The music slowly faded, and Ryou opened his eyes. He knew he would never forget that dance, or the first glimpse of Téa's face—rosy-flushed, azure eyes half-lidded and dreamy, an alluring smile playing at her lips. In just an instant, as Téa realized he could see, it was gone, replaced by a blandly friendly grin.

Téa dropped her hands and stepped away. She cleared her throat. "Well, that was better," she managed, in a forced tone that was too brisk to be friendly and too chipper to be professional. She nodded to herself. "Yes, I think you are getting the hang of it."

Ryou smiled. "I have a good teacher."

Téa's cheeks brightened just a bit. She looked away. "Um, so let's keep going with the next song. I think you can keep your eyes open this time, though."

Ryou nodded. He held out his hands. This time, it was Téa who hesitated, just for a second, before stepping into position. Was it possibly, just barely possible, that this dance meant more to her than a ball hitting a glove?

The next song began. The music was softer this time, with strumming guitar chords that sounded modern and familiar. Ryou tapped his foot to the rhythm, getting a feel for it.

_Will you count me in?_ a female voice whispered.

Ryou's eyes flicked to Téa's in surprise. "Colbie Caillat?"

"What?" Téa was grinning. "Did you think that all dancing music had to be fifty years old?"

"Actually, yes," Ryou admitted. He chuckled as he began the steps of the dance. "Can we really foxtrot to this?"

Téa tilted her head off the side, her eyes half-closed. "Listen to the beat, and you tell me."

Ryou laughed. "I'm not sure I'm that good at this rhythm thing yet. I'll just take your word for it."

Téa smiled. "I won't argue with that." They moved together to the light, summery chords as Ryou guided her across the floor. With his eyes open, he was more aware of his less than expert steps, but he tried to push away the nagging thoughts. There was just the music, the steps, and Téa. Only Téa.

The music played. Its cheerfully infectious tune filled the room; its words of intoxicating infatuation swirled around them. Ryou swallowed hard. Dancing with Téa, holding her in his arms, looking into her eyes, it was so easy to want more than just this moment. Did she feel it too, this tender, tenuous something that twined around them?

As the song ended, a tiny sigh escaped Téa's lips and her eyelids fluttered closed. For a moment, they stood together, perfectly still and silent. Then she opened her eyes, lifting her chin to met Ryou's gaze. "Thank you for the dance," she whispered.

"It was my pleasure." Neither of them made any attempt to disengage from their hold.

She was so close. The faint floral scent she wore floated up to him, teasing his senses. Her warm breath stirred on his cheek. Ryou's gaze clung to her lips. All he could think about was how soft and luscious they had been against his. How badly he wanted to feel them again. Taste them. Damn, she was irresistible. But he had to find a way to resist. Somehow.

Now those lips were parting. Now she was leaning in. Now his senses were swirling, lost to everything but the sweet temptation before him.

The last of Ryou's self-control shredded. He lifted his hand and brushed the silky chestnut strands from her face. He cupped her cheek and gently tilted her chin as he bent his head to hers.


	13. Chapter 13

"No." Abruptly, Téa pulled away. She turned away. "I'm sorry. I can't do this."

Ryou stumbled backwards in confusion. "What's wrong?"

Téa took a step back, putting more distance between them. "It's just too weird. I think of you as a friend, Bakura." She bit her lip. "I don't want to complicate things between us." She let out a shaky laugh. "Things are complicated enough right now."

Ryou was silently for a long moment. Finally, he spoke. "I understand. Heat of the moment. We just got a little carried away."

"Yes, exactly." Téa sounded relieved. "I'm glad you understand. You…You're a really great guy, Bakura…" There was a definite _but_ in her tone.

"But I'm not Yugi," Ryou finished. He looked down so she couldn't see his face. "I get it."

Téa bristled. "What's Yugi got to do with anything?"

"I know you two have something going on," Ryou said tolerantly. "Everyone does, you know."

"_Everyone_ doesn't know as much as they think they do." Téa folded her arms across her chest. "Yugi and I are just friends."

A tiny flicker of hope rose in Ryou's chest, but just as quickly died. "You say that," he said, "but I've seen the two of you together. You might just be friends right now, but that's not all there is to the story."

Téa bit her lip. There was a pause before she spoke again, and when she did, her words were slower and less certain. "Yugi and I are very close," she admitted. "We've been friends for a long time. We care about each other deeply." Her eyes flickered up to Ryou's. "But that's not the same thing as what you're talking about."

"I've seen the way he looks at you," Ryou said quietly. "I know that look." He knew it all so well. He'd worn it more times than he could count. Téa swallowed. Before she could reply, Ryou added, "And I've seen the way you look at him. Not all the time, but sometimes. It's there."

"It's not _Yugi_ that I'm looking at" Téa said softly.

Of course, thought Ryou. It was the Spirit who lived in Yugi's Puzzle, just as his did in the Ring. Only the Spirit Yugi was bound to was heroic and benign, helping Yugi and turning him into champion, while Ryou's Spirit forced him to commit crimes and hurt the people he cared about.

Téa sighed, clearly lost in her own thoughts and unaware of Ryou's. "It's complicated." She laughed bitterly. "I _told_ you things were complicated." She glanced over at him. "The last thing I need is for you to get involved." She winced. "That sounds horrible, but that's not how I meant it. I just—"

"I get it," Ryou interrupted. "You've got enough boy trouble with one possessed teenager. Two would just be nuts." He could hear her gasp behind him as he turned and walked away.

* * *

><p>"Bakura!" Téa called to his retreating back. "Hey, wait!" He didn't even pause. "That isn't fair," Téa muttered, but she doubted Bakura could even hear her now. The heavy metal door to the gym slammed shut behind him.<p>

Téa slumped down to the cold floor of the gym. She hugged her knees to her chest. "How did things get like this?" she muttered. She bit her lip. She didn't want to leave things all messed up with Bakura, but every time they tried to smooth things over, something else happened to make things worse than before. This time was her fault, she knew. She never should have suggested dancing. It was baldly obviously, looking back, that it would inspire exactly the wrong kind of ideas. But Téa hadn't been thinking that way about it at all. She hadn't been thinking "Get Bakura into an intimate situation with romantic music and physical contact"; she had just been thinking "dancing."

Whenever she felt stressed, or sad, or just really horrible, the first place she always headed was the dance studio. It was her guaranteed feel-better-quick panacea. When things around her were chaos, there was order in the steps, the form, the rhythm. When the world was ugly and cruel, there was beauty and poetry. When life left her feeling inadequate, fearful, or alone, she lost herself in the music and the dance and became confident, graceful, and fearless. That was all she had wanted, to feel like that, to be like that, and not the scared girl trapped in the middle of a blizzard with no way to get help.

Boy, had that backfired _spectacularly. _

Téa slowly got to her feet. She didn't blame Bakura for what had happened. She'd been the one to kiss him earlier, after all, and they'd both been too awkward about it to ever clear the air afterwards. From his perspective, she was probably giving out massive mixed signals.

Téa walked over to the cd player, which was now playing Peggy Lee's _Fever._ She switched it off and sat on the first row of empty bleachers. She hadn't known Bakura felt that way about her. Honestly, she hadn't known he felt that way about anyone. Half the girls at school were ga-ga over his long white hair, soulful brown eyes, and beautiful face, but Bakura had never paid anyone of them, not even the pushiest, much attention. He just kept to himself, quiet, aloof. Téa had figured that was simply how he liked it.

Now, however, she found herself questioning everything she thought she knew about Bakura. Earlier, in the chemistry lab, he had divulged such intimate details of his life. Her throat tightened as she remembered the raw grief in his voice as he had talked about his sister and how much he had loved her. There was so much pain inside of him, pain he kept coiled so tight inside of him that no one ever saw it. The face he presented to the world was quiet and contented, but Téa realized that secretly he was desperately lonely. Her chest tightened. She could relate to that. Sometimes, it wasn't easy keeping the cheerful smile pasted on her face. She knew her friends would still love her even if they knew the truth about her home life, but it wasn't an easy pain to share. Not when they all had so much of their own stuff to deal with—Joey with his own broken home and his sister's failing eyesight, Yugi with his dad always away on business and now, of course, the Spirit and the Puzzle and all this magic and destiny and weirdness that went with it. She was supposed to be strong for them, not the other way around. Maybe she could have dumped on Tristan, but he was so… so…_Tristan_. Téa sighed. He and Joey understood each other so well, but she suspected he wouldn't be so great with emotional conversations where you couldn't just smack the other person in the face if you felt like they needed it. Besides, his family was the exact opposite of hers—big and busy and suffocating. Téa suspected he was more than happy to have excuses to get away from them. He wouldn't understand the silent rejection of coming home day after day to not so much as a note on the fridge.

She'd thought her friends knew her better than anyone. But she'd never told any of them about her family. She'd never told them about the deepest, darkest pain in her heart. But she'd told Bakura. She hadn't planned to, hadn't decided, hadn't even thought about it. If she had, she wouldn't have told him. She would have rationalized herself out of it, the same way she had for each of her friends. Bakura already had enough to worry about. He had more troubles than anyone else. She shouldn't burden him further. Besides, compared to what he had gone through, her complaint would just sound pathetic.

But she hadn't thought. It had just slipped out, as if the silent pain in his eyes called to hers. She hugged her arms to her chest. He didn't treat it like another burden. He didn't treat it like a petty complaint. He looked at her and she felt understood. And then, like some kind of barrier had been broken, he had poured out his own pain. That was where pain belonged, Téa realized. Out, not in, to gnaw and fester and suffocate. Out in the open. Only, it couldn't be opened to just anyone. Some people would use it like a weapon, intent on hurting more. Others would hurt through their callousness or their indifference, or their ignorance. No, it had to be someone who would understand. It had to be someone special.

Téa's eyes flew open. She bit her lip so hard she could taste blood. Someone special.

What had she just thrown away?


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Sorry for the long, long, long wait. I guess what I really needed was a snow day of my own to inspire me to continue this story.

* * *

><p>Darkness stole swiftly over the stormy sky and settled over the frosty air. Outside the walls of Domino High, the wind howled and hurled icy particles to and fro with ferocious abandon. The fall of snow had slowed, but that was small comfort. Through a heavy veil of clouds, the moon peeked down on a glittering field of featureless white. Roads, parking lots, grass, there was no distinction. Every inch of the landscape was blanketed with thick snow, and then frosted with a treacherous glaze of ice.<p>

Inside the school, things were barely warmer. True, the ancient heating system still guttered and spluttered gamely along, but a chill had settled over the corridors of the abandoned school along with the darkness and the silence. It was hard to say which of the three was hardest to bear.  
>Ryou huddled in the corner of Ms. Evans' classroom. He hugged his knees to his chest, cold despite the blanket draped over him. The room was silent except for the hum of the heating unit, but Ryou's head pounded with a single mantra. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This time, there was no one to blame but himself. There was no "Dare" card with its embarrassing edicts, no Spirit to force him into things against his will. There was just him and his idiocy. Ryou groaned and curled himself into a tighter ball. It did nothing to warm the icy ache in his chest. Still, it had been a long, trying day. Eventually the darkness and the exhaustion claimed him and dragged him off into a fitful and far from restful sleep.<p>

Across the hall, down the staircase, and through the double doors of the gymnasium, Téa wasn't faring much better. She'd dragged one of the tumbling mats out onto the floor and gotten sheets and a blanket from the nurse's office, but she couldn't get comfortable. She turned this way and that, trying to find a position that didn't make her back ache, or strain her neck, or make vinyl stick to her cheek. T last, she sat up and groaned aloud. This was ridiculous. She'd managed just fine at Duelist Kingdom in much worse conditions. She'd slept on the hard, rocky ground with only the protection of Mai's tent and sleeping bag. Of course, it had been quite a bit warmer then. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders. The flannel was worn and pilled and it smelled like old cough drops and antiseptic. But Téa couldn't afford to be picky. She couldn't imagine how awful the drafty old gymnasium would be if she had no blanket at all.

Unbidden, her thoughts drifted to Bakura. Bet it was warm where he was. She imagined him curled up in Ms. Evans room, lying on a downy mattress littered with fluffy pillows and piled high with blankets. It was a ridiculous fantasy, Téa knew, but she couldn't shake it out of her head. Even if he didn't have the mattress or pillows—where on earth could he have gotten them?—it was bound to be warmer in the carpeted classroom than in the gym. Less lonely too. And if it got really cold, they could share their blankets and huddle together for warmth.  
>…Yeah. For warmth. You keep telling yourself that, Téa.<p>

Telling herself to shut up, Téa flung herself back down on the mat and pulled the blanket over her head. There was absolutely no way she was going up there and asking Bakura if they could "huddle together for warmth." But she couldn't get the idea out of her head. It kept coming back to her as she tried to fall asleep. Her head on Bakura's shoulder, his arms around her… How warm it would be, how comfortable, and lovely…  
>Fire rushed through her veins, jolting her a little more awake. Why was she thinking like this? It was the memory of that kiss that was bothering her, that was all. She'd read in one of her science textbook about how the brain used dreams to process sensory information acquired during the day. The fact that the dry scientific explanation did nothing to explain the blood rushing to her cheeks and the heat pooling in her belly was inconvenient, but mostly ignorable.<p>

If only that kiss was as easy to ignore.

* * *

><p>"Téa?"<p>

From out of the nebulous darkness, a familiar voice called to her. Her eyelids fluttered and she tossed from side to side. Something warm and solid came in contact with her shoulders—hands, she realized dimly. With a groan, she tried to shove the veil of sleepiness off her senses.

"Téa, are you awake?" Bakura was bending over her, shaking her gently.

"Oh, it's you." Téa smiled up at him, all tiredness vanishing in a twinkling.

"Who else would it be?" Bakura's mouth twisted a little.

"So what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," he told her sheepishly. "It was too quiet, too lonely."

"I know what you mean," Téa admitted. She sat up, brushing her hair back from her face. "I've been feeling a little forlorn myself."

Bakura shivered violently. "It's so cold down here," he complained. He rubbed up and down his arms and stamped his feet. They were bare, she noticed, stark white against the dingy taupe of the gym floor.

"We can share the blanket," Téa offered, dragging her eyes away from his feet. Of course his feet were bare, she scolded herself. He wouldn't sleep in shoes, would he? She scooted to one side to make room for Bakura on the mat. "Much warmer with two, after all." It was funny how easily the words came to her lips, how smoothly she said them without a trace of embarrassment.

Bakura's cheeks went a bit pink, but he only nodded and accepted her offer. He climbed onto the mat, his hand brushing hers as he did, sending heart spiraling through her. His breath stirred on her cheek as his warm, chocolatey eyes met hers. "You're right," he murmured, "It's so much warmer now."

He leaned over her, his mouth slanting across hers. Did he kiss her or did she kiss him? She didn't know or care. All she cared about was the hot, insistent feel of his lips on hers, his body pressing against hers, her fingers entwined in his hair. Fire licked her veins, seeming to scorch the very air around them.

Bakura gripped the back of her head, pulling her closer. "Téa," he groaned against her skin, "my lovely Téa."

He trailed his lips over her neck, her jaw, her cheeks, before reclaiming her lips. Waves of pleasure washed over her. She clung to him, opening her mouth to him, matching his fervency with her own. Lost in the heady sensations, she barely realized the moment Bakura pushed her back against the mat. He nuzzled her neck as he straddled her. Desire shot through her blood, even as warning bells clanged in her head. "Mine," he crooned, caressing the curve of her hip as he shifted his weight against her body.

"Spirit?" she gasped.

He dipped his head to hers once more. As he raised it, he reached up to touch her cheek. Laughter, the sound of vicious delight, floated over her senses.

And then there was darkness.

* * *

><p>Light filtered through the narrow windows set high in the gym walls. The windows were small and dirty and so the light that trickled in was thin and dingy. But it was enough to fill the room, enough to banish the shadows of night to the corners. Tea blinked groggily. She eased her body off the gym mat. She felt stiff all over. So much for hoping the mat would provide adequate padding. She felt like she had slept on a slab of concrete.<p>

Ignoring her body's protests, she went through her morning stretches and calisthenics. The workout limbered up her body and helped to clear her mind. She'd had such a strange dream last night. She could only recall snatches of it now, but what little she did remember still felt so real. Her fingers went to her lips as a particular vivid snippet washed over her memory. She flushed. Immediately, she shook her head as if to clear it. It was just a dream.

A tiny thread of unease coiled tight in the pit of her stomach. There had been something else to that dream. Something disturbing.  
>Tea clenched her jaw. The Spirit was gone. She had tossed the Ring out the window herself. It was only bad memories that troubled her now. That was all.<p>

There was a knock on the gym doors, and then they swung open. "Tea?" Bakura poked his head inside. "You in here?"

"I'm here." Tea walked to the doors as Bakura stepped inside. "Oh good. I was looking for you. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," she said stiffly. His face fell a little. Tea softened. "It was good of you to check on me," she told him.

He brightened. "Not a problem at all. Did you sleep alright?"

Tea's color heightened as she remembered her odd dream. "I guess so. It was kind of cold, though, and the gym mat wasn't nearly as soft as I'd hoped."

"The rug in Ms. Evans' room wasn't exactly a featherbed either."

They stood awkwardly together for a moment. Finally, Tea rubbed her eyes. "I could really go for some coffee right now."

Bakura smiled. He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Tea wrinkled her nose at him, but she accepted his arm. Together, they strolled through the heavy double doors of the gym and through the hall. All of the lights were out, but there was enough ambient light to see by. Bakura led her to the teacher's lounge and opened the door.

The aroma of fresh coffee hit her nose and she smiled. "You already made some? Great." Then she blinked. Not only was there a fresh pot of coffee brewing on the counter, but the worktable was spread with an array of breakfast foods. Scrambled eggs, sausage, three kinds of cereal, strawberries, bananas, and even… "Muffins?" Tea picked one up off the plate. "Where did you…?"

Bakura laughed. "I raided the vending machines. Sorry, not home baked."

"That's okay." She stared at all of the food. "This is amazing, Bakura." She beamed at him. "I can't believe you did all of this."

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I know things went down…badly…last night." He raised his eyes to hers hopefully. "Consider this an apology."

Tea bit her lip. "I really don't think you're the one who needs to be apologizing for what happened." She looked down. "It's just that everything…"

Bakura pressed a finger to her lips. "Hush. What's past is past. Let's not talk about it anymore." He pulled his finger away. "Now, let's eat."

Cheerfully, Tea let Bakura pile her plate with eggs and sausage, while she fixed herself a bowl of Total with strawberries on top. After how crazy yesterday had been, was it any wonder that she was starving this morning?

For himself, Bakura took eggs, sausage, and one of the vending machine muffins. Then, he grabbed a mug of the cabinet and poured a cup of coffee. "What will you take in it?" he asked. "Cream, sugar?"

"Creamer if they have it, milk if they don't. Any chance there's Splenda?"

Bakura got the little bottle of creamer out of the staff fridge and added a dollop. "Splenda?" He fished around on the counter and came up with a handful of pink packets. "Like this?"

"No, that's Sweet N Low. Splenda comes in yellow packets."

"Why does it have to be so complicated?" Bakura muttered to himself. But he found the right packets this time and added two of them to the coffee. He stirred the coffee and presented it to her with a flourish. "Here you are, my lady."

Tea took a tiny sip. "Mmmm, perfect." She closed her eyes, letting the warmth and the bittersweet taste invigorate her senses. She liked to imagine she could feel the caffeine entering her bloodstream.

She opened her eyes to find Bakura watching her. She flushed a little. "Um, aren't you going to have any?" she asked.

Bakura shook his head. "Sorry, I only drink tea." He smiled. "It's a British thing, I suppose."

Tea watched as he poured plain hot water from the second coffee pot into a mug with a tea bag. He let it sit on the counter to seep, then took a seat across from from her at the table. "So, if you don't drink coffee, how come you can make it so well?"

Bakura shrugged. "I followed the directions on the bag."

"Seriously?" Tea laughed. She took another sip. "It really is good," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe you're just a natural."

"I doubt that." Bakura took a bite of his eggs. Tea followed suit and for a few minutes, they ate in silence.

It wasn't an awkward silence, but a companionable, comfortable one. Ryou smiled a little to himself as he watched Tea bite into a ripe strawberry. This breakfast had been a brilliant idea. His heart beat a little faster. Maybe there was still a tiny chance she could come to see him as something other than a friend after all. He bit his lip. No, he couldn't start that again. Last night, she'd made it very clear that she didn't think of him that way. If he tried again, he could ruin everything for good. He couldn't bear it if Tea never wanted anything to do with him again. It was better to be just her friend, even if his heart ached a little in his chest every time he looked at her.

"Would you like to try some?" Tea offered suddenly.

"Hmm?" His thoughts interrupted, Ryou looked up in confusion. "Try what?"

"The coffee." Tea clasped her mug with both hands. "Would you like a taste?"

Immediately, Ryou's eyes fell to her lips. He knew exactly what he'd like to taste. Reddening, he looked away. "I've had coffee before, Tea."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. Ryou kicked himself. Why couldn't he ever seem to say the right thing?

"I'll tell you what, though." He leaned forward. "I'll try some of your coffee if you try some of my tea."

Tea thought for a moment. Then she smiled, a smile that managed to be mischievous, innocent, and playful all at once. "Okay. I'm game." Was it just him, or was her voice just a touch too breathy?

Slowly, Ryou rose from the table. The Earl Grey had steeped enough now. He scooped the teabag out with a spoon, and tossed it in the trash, then added two teaspoons of sugar and just a splash of milk. Perfect. He sat back down, stirring slowly. "Ready?"

"No way. You first." Her blue eyes twinkled as she pushed her mug across the table towards him. Ryou picked it. "Purple kittens?" he asked, quirking his eyebrows at the design on the front.

"You're the one who picked it out for me, remember? Now stop stalling."

Ryou smiled. He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. The bitter taste was as awful as he remembered, but he didn't let his grimace show on his face. Instead, he closed his eyes and made a show of savoring the taste. At last he swallowed and opened his eyes to find Tea watching him. "Did you like it?" she asked eagerly.

Ryou smiled. "I think I would describe the taste as…" He chewed his lip thoughtfully as if searching for the perfect word. "Perfectly, completely…horrible."

Tea threw a napkin at him. "_You're_ horrible," she told him. But she was grinning.

"Your turn." He handed her the mug of tea. Their fingers brushed as she took it from him. "This one has polka dot puppies." Tea giggled. "I wonder which teacher has the thing for strangely colored animals."

Their eyes connected across the table. Her laughter turned into a secretive smile. Without really knowing why, Ryou smiled too. Her eyes locked on his, she raised the mug to her lips and drank. Her eyelids fluttered shut, her lips moved as she sampled the flavor. Those soft, petal-pink lips. Ryou clenched his hands into fists against the memory of how they had felt against his, that first time in the classroom and that brief stolen kiss last night. It was all he could do not to pull her to him and kiss her on the spot. But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't.

Her eyes fluttered open. "It's very different from coffee, isn't it?" Her voice was almost a whisper.

"Yes." Ryou hoped his voice sounded normal. "It is."

"It's sweeter," she mused, "but not saccharine. It has it's own kind of bitterness, but it's not like coffee. It's lighter, not so intense." She ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. Ryou dug his fingernails into his palm. "It's sort of musky."

"That's the bergamot," Ryou said automatically.

Tea's brow wrinkled. "What's bergamot?"

"It's this kind of orange that grows in Italy. They take the oils and—" He looked down. "You know what? It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Not really." Her eyes met his. "But it was interesting." She looked down at the mug, tracing the rim with a slender finger. "It's very interesting." She took another long sip. Ryou looked away. Was she trying to torture him, or did she really have no idea how she was affecting him. He stood, unable to be still.

"Where are you going?" Tea asked. A tiny bead of tea clung to her bottom lip. She licked it off.

Ryou gulped and dragged his eyes away. "I'm going to see what the snow's like. If enough of it's melted, we might be able to get out of here."

"Good idea. I'll come with you." Tea got up from her chair. She hesitated as her hand brushed the mug. "But what about your tea? You didn't even get a chance to drink any. Don't you want a taste?"

"I'm fine." Ryou turned away. "You can finish it if you want. I don't need any."

"Well, if you're sure." He couldn't see her, but her voice sounded uncertain.

He closed his eyes. "I'm sure." Sure that taking the one thing he wanted more than anything would lose him what he needed most.

Without turning back, he left the room. After a second, Tea followed. The door closed behind them, and silence welled around the remains of a perfect breakfast and two mugs, one with purple kittens and the other with polka dot puppies.


	15. Chapter 15

It was surprisingly hard to tug open the heavy double doors at the front of the school. Once they had, both Tea and Bakura boggled at the artic landscape laid before them. Yesterday, the roads and parking lot had nestled beneath a thick blanket of snow. Today, the roads and parking lot didn't exist. They had disappeared completely under the smooth white coat. They could have been looking out at a endless prairie as easily as a high school in the heart of the city.

"Well," Bakura said, his voice stunningly calm. "I guess we're not going home today."

Tea wanted to howl. _I have a life,_ she screamed silently. _I have a job and a show to prepare for and plans that don't involve being trapped in my school!_ Tea kicked at the fringe of snow that crusted the entryway with the toe of her loafer. She was sick of this place, sick of this whole ridiculous mess. She just wanted to go home and get back to real life. She could have screamed and stomped her frustration with the universe for its utter lack of cooperation.

But of course, she didn't. She pasted own her best "brave and resigned" face and said with a little sigh. "You're right. The snowplow trucks are going to be completely swamped with this mess. The schools are going to be way low on the priority list—why bother when no one needs to get there until Monday?" She looked longingly out into the glistening white distance. Somewhere beyond the snowdrifts was her nice warm home with her soft mattress, well-stocked kitchen, clean clothes, toothbrush, and television. It was so close…yet completely out of reach.

"I suppose there's no question of walking home?" Bakura's voice echoed her thoughts.

Tea shook her head sadly. It wasn't far—she and Yugi walked to school and back most fine days, and even a few that weren't so fine—but they'd be walking nearly waist deep in snow for miles. It would have been grueling in proper snowgear. In her school-issue short skirt, it was unthinkable. Bakura's thin uniform pants wouldn't be much better. Even standing here in the shelter of the overhang, the bitter wind sliced through her blazer—and it was the thickest piece of clothing she had on!

"We're stranded," she said aloud. She couldn't quite keep the despair out of her voice. "We'll be lucky to get home before Monday classes roll around."

"It's not quite that bad," Bakura soothed her. "I'm sure that by tomorrow the plows will have cleared us out. They'll probably fix the phone lines quite soon too."

Tea groaned. She had managed to forget about the downed lines.

Bakura shot her a sympathetic look. "We should probably go back inside," he said, stamping his feet. "It's rather cold out here."

"I guess so." Tea gave the glistening white horizon a final lingering gaze before turning and following him in.

Bakura bolted the doors behind them. "Just in case."

Tea shivered. "If there was someone stuck out there in that blizzard, we shouldn't really lock them out, should we?"

"If someone bangs on the door, we can figure what to do then. I'd rather not take any chances."

Fair enough, though Tea. The re-emergence of the Spirit and the Ring last night had shaken them both up, it seemed. The flesh at the back of her neck crawled. She pushed the unwelcome memories away. "Well, if we're going to be stuck here, I'd better get serious about my homework," Tea sighed. "Mrs. Eisenblum is _not_ going to be understanding if I spend my entire weekend at school and don't manage to turn in a simple paper."

Bakura nodded sympathetically. "Truth be told, I have some work I should get done as well. Algebra." He grimaced.

"Why don't we do our work together? In the same room, I mean. That way if one of us has trouble, the other can help."

Bakura assented eagerly to the plan. They quickly agreed to clear away the breakfast mess, and then head to the library for "study hall."

Going to the library had been Tea's idea. "It's good to have an 'academic space,'" she had said. "Someplace that's just focused on learning and studying. Since we're living in the school, we'll have to try a little harder to separate our learning space from our living space." It had all sounded well and good while they cleared the plates and washed the mugs in the cheerful shabbiness of the teacher's lounge. But as soon as they walked through the library doors, Tea felt a chill run down her spine.

Bakura seemed oblivious. "Do you want to work at the same table or separate desks?" He laid his things down on the nearest desks. "Here, I could take this one, and you could be at this next one here."

Tea stiffened. That was the same desk she had been at yesterday when "Bakura" had "helped" her with reading _The Crucible._ The same desk he'd pushed her up against when he kissed her. Just laying a hand on the solid oak surface brought the vivid memories rushing back. His mouth on hers, his lean body crushing into hers, his fingers gripping her skin.

"Maybe I'll go work at that table over there instead," she said in a rush. She hurried across the room and swung her backpack down with a thud that resounded through the silent space. If there had been any librarians on duty, they would have given her a deathglare, but there weren't. She smiled to herself, as if it were some kind of personal triumph that she had outlasted the librarians, and fished her books out of the backpack. The copy of _The Crucible_ that she'd acquired yesterday afternoon stared her in the face, but Tea ignored it. She'd have to face it eventually, but right now there was history and algebra to let her fend it off for a little while longer. At least until her unsettling thoughts subsided.

If they ever would.

* * *

><p>The library was all but silent as the two stranded students quietly worked. Not a word passed between them; the only sound was the scratching of pencils and the rustle of turning pages.<p>

As much as Ryou disliked Algebra—and maths in general—he was a diligent student and smart besides. He could figure most of it out on his own. There were one or two problems that gave him such a headache that he considered calling Tea over to have a look at them, but one glance over at her table silenced him. She was bent over in concentration, brows knit, one hand fisted in her short brown hair, and a horrible scowl entrenched firmly on her features. It would have been endearing if it hadn't also been slightly terrifying.

Ryou knew better than to try to disturb her, so he muddled through as best he could.

_Sara's mother's age is three times her age. The sum of their ages is 40. How old is Sara? How old is Sara's mother?_

Ryou heaved a sigh. He rubbed at his temples. _All right, let's try to untangle this one. _

He could think of Sara's age as x. That would make her mother's age 3x. So 3x + x = 40.

Relief rushed over him. This wasn't so hard after all. He could solve this. He could start by dividing both sides by 3. 40 divided by 3 was… He frowned in concentration. If only Mr. Himmer would let them use calculators. But no, he insisted that they atrophied the brain.

Ryou wrote out the problem on his scratch paper and set to work. 3 went into 4 one time, 3 x 1 was 3, subtract, bring down the zero, 3 went into 10 three times…

His mind hummed with the work. He was so occupied he didn't notice what he was scratching on his paper until he looked down, expecting to see the answer.

_Did you really think it was over?_

The pencil fell out of Ryou's hands, clanging against the wood desk, where it rolled and tumbled to the floor. Ryou didn't bend to pick it up. He couldn't breathe, much less move. He stared at the page as if staring at it long enough and hard enough could make the words disappear. Maybe it would. They couldn't be real, after all. It was a hallucination, it had to be. More than one school counselor had told him he suffered from them. One of them had even given him a prescription for antipsychotics once,that he'd never filled. Maybe he should have.

The words were still there. His hands shook. Yes, he had thought it was over. He had thought—or at least hoped—that he had finally been released from the nightmare.

He should have known better.

Over his shoulder, he glanced at the table where Tea worked. She was still hunched up and scowling, oblivious to his situation. Good. The last thing she needed was something else to worry about. He ripped the page out of his notebook, crumpled it up, and threw it in the trash.

She looked up then. "Everything okay, Bakura?"

"Y-yes," Ryou replied shakily. "Just a little trouble with a problem, that's all."

Instantly, he felt guilty. Maybe he should tell Tea what was going on. After all, given what happened yesterday, there was a good chance the Spirit would go after her in some way. She should know so she could take precautions or something.

But Ryou knew the only effective precaution would be staying completely away from him. Was that even possible, with the two of them trapped in the school together? And if it was, could he bear it?

Tea laid her book down. "Here, let me take a look." She walked over to the desk. Ryou's heart hammered in his chest. "Which problem is giving you trouble?"

Unable to trust himself to speak, he jabbed a finger at the book.

Tea read the problem out loud. "Okay, first try to write it out as an equation. What in this problem could you represent with x?"

"Sara's age." Ryou bit back the sigh that rose to his lips. He could hardly explain that he knew how to do the problem. Not without explaining everything else.

"Good." Tea came to stand behind his shoulder. "So the equation would be…"

"3x + x = 40."

"That's right. So the first step in solving for x is…"

"Divide both sides by 3." Ryou struggled to keep the boredom from his voice. "So, 40 divided by 3…" He scrambled to pick his pencil off the floor. He started to write out the problem on his paper. His palms started to sweat, making the pencil slippery. He kept his eyes trained on the paper. If the Spirit took over and wrote something now…

But all that came out was the problem. He worked through the division carefully, aware of Tea behind him, watching every move. She didn't say much, but he could sense her presence—the warmth of her skin, the way it set his tingling. He could smell the faint scent of her lotion-vanilla and something else...honeysuckle, maybe. It teased at his senses, eating away at his concentration.

She was so close. Tantalizingly close. Treacherously close.

Ryou swallowed. This was dangerous. It was impossible to hold back all the thoughts that had been crowding in his brain all day-no, longer, since the moment he had first met her. It was impossible to hold back the feelings that ached in his chest. It was impossible to tear his eyes away from her hand, resting on the table, so close to his. He could hold it right now. He had only to move his hand. Not even a lot. Just a few inches.

He closed his eyes. He was going insane. For months, he'd nursed his feelings for Tea. Quietly. He'd looked her in the eye without blushing. He'd said her name without savoring the sound. He'd waited and watched from the distant corner of her affections that she'd shoved him in with placid eyes and not once betrayed the raging storm he felt when he looked at her. Nothing had been more secret, more safe.

So how, in the space of less than twenty-hours hours, had it come to this? How could something so simple as long division completely elude him just because Tea was standing behind him and she smelled of vanilla honeysuckles?

He knew why. It was that kiss, the one she'd given him as a simple dare. It had meant nothing to her, any dolt could see that, but it had ignited the fire in Ryou's blood like nothing else. All of the months of patience and placidity, all of the iron control he had honed over his emotions, all of the caution and careful reserve, all of it burned up in a few seconds of the fires of heaven.

And now all he was left with was a living hell.


	16. Chapter 16

Something was wrong with Bakura and it had nothing to do with Algebra.

Tea wasn't sure exactly how she had arrived at this conclusion, but she was here—and certain it was right. There was a kind of caginess to Bakura's behavior. His eyes slide away from hers whenever he looked up at her, his answers to her questions were monosyllablic, and he seemed highly uninterested in the math problem they were working on, even though that was the whole reason she was over here…wasn't it?

What exactly he _was_ interested in was a mystery to her. At first, she had thought the math problem might be an excuse—you know, get the pretty girl to come over and talk to you, stand real close to you, lean over so you can look down her shirt...Okay so that all sounded way more like Joey and Tristan than anything that would go through Bakura's head, but Tea was still getting used to the idea that Bakura—quiet, shy, proper Bakura who rarely said more than five sentences in a row and almost never directed at her—was majorly crushing on her.

It wasn't like Tea was oblivious or anything. She knew that you couldn't hang out around boys all the time and expect totally platonic results. Although he hadn't tried anything in a while, she still hadn't forgotten the time Joey had tried to look up her skirt. It was only last month that Tristan—of all people—had tried to flirt with her. ("Guess My Facial Hair?" _Really?) _And of course, there was Yugi. Tea grimaced. She'd think about the problem of Yugi some other time.

But she'd never expected anything like that from Bakura. He'd never flirted with her, never spent a little too much time talking to her in the hallway, never so much as blushed in her direction—or anyone's direction, for that matter. It had even crossed her mind a few times that he might be gay. He sure didn't seem to be interested in the flock of fangirls that had swooped down on him right after he had transferred. Now, she wondered, was that because of her? It was an unsettling thought and not wholly a comfortable one.

But all of that was beside the point.

The point was: Bakura was acting very strangely—dare she say suspiciously—and Tea was 99.9% sure the reason had nothing to do with Algebra and... 89.7% sure that it had nothing to do with her either.

Which of course begged the question: what _was_ wrong with Bakura?

She could ask, of course, but Bakura, being the quiet, secretive, intensely reserved person that he was would almost certainly not give her a straightforward or at least a straightforwardly honest answer. Asking him would just telegraph her concerns and would so be a Bad Idea.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

Sometimes she was just an idiot.

Bakura blinked up at her. "Okay?" He managed to look and sound genuinely confused, but Tea was pretty sure he knew exactly what she was asking about.

"Yeah, okay. It's an American phrase. Comes from the letters o and k, which would be an acronym for... I have no idea. Generally, it means well, good, satisfactory, healthy, sane, reasonably happy...any of this ringing a bell?"

Bakura gave her a smile as phony as a two dollar bill. No wait, those were real. A _three_ dollar bill. They didn't really have those, did they? Anyway, it was a fake smile. "I know what 'okay' means, Tea. And, um, that isn't it's etymology. It probably was never an acronym at all…" He caught her eyes and stopped himself midstream. "But that's another issue. What I meant was: 'Why are you asking me if I'm okay?'"

"Probably because I think you aren't."

Bakura shook his snowy mane as he sighed. He ran his fingers across the open notebook in front of him. "I just don't understand why this problem is giving me so much trouble."

Tea arched an eyebrow suspiciously. She didn't think it was the math that was the problem, but there _was_ that niggling 0.01 percent to consider. "It seems to me like you're doing okay with it. Actually, it seems like you don't even need my help with it." Hence her Joey-and-Tristan-inspired suspicions earlier.

Bakura looked up and their eyes connected. There was something there, an almost palpable vulnerability. Without thinking, Tea reached out to touch his face. Just before her fingers grazed his cheek, she dropped her hand. She blushed furiously. What was she doing?

Bakura was blushing too, although maybe not as much. A soft smile played at his lips and the look in his eyes wasn't quite so haunted. "Maybe I don't need your help," he admitted.

Tea's eyes widened. Was he admitting he had just pretended to get her attention? Despite all her accusatory thoughts earlier, Tea found herself flattered. After all, it wasn't like he had tried to feel her up or anything. It was kind of …romantic. She smiled back at him.

It was one of those moments, the kind that seem perfectly ordinary until they take your breath away. Her stupid brain shut up with all its questions and suspicions and snarky comments. All of the problems and the drama and the snow storm raging around them all faded away to nothing. There was only him and her.

Brushing her hair back from her face with an almost unconscious gesture, Tea leaned in towards him. Their eyes connected. He swayed towards her, 'til there was barely a breath between them. Tea's eyes fell to his lips. All the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. All she could hear was the hammering of her heart and the whisper of his breath.

She couldn't fight this any more. She didn't understand it, the way those chocolate brown eyes melted something inside of her, the way someone so quiet and unassuming like Bakura could make her feel such powerful, startling things. Slowly, she reached out and ran her hand over his snowy locks. She savored the feel of them against her fingertips, even as her brain sputtered back to life.

This wasn't smart, Tea knew. She didn't know what this was, what she felt. She didn't know if she even wanted a relationship with Bakura. Maybe all this was a weekend fling. Two teenagers locked in a building…bound to happen. Once the real world reappeared, no doubt this fire in her blood would be extinguished, quenched so thoroughly barely a whisper of smoke remained.

But right here and now, oh, how bright it blazed.

No. Bakura was a friend. She didn't want to hurt him. And he could be hurt so easily. She met his eyes again. His quiet, polite facade worked well, but he'd let see past it, see glimpses of someone deeply fragile, someone who didn't deserve to be broken again. She couldn't lead him on.

She couldn't push him away.

As she closed the space between them, she realized, deep in her soul, that she didn't want to.

His lips were warm and yielding against hers. Tea had half-expected him to pull away or to stiffen in surprise. But there was no resistance, only softness and warmth. A sigh escaped him as his hands slipped around her waist, pulling her close. She melted against him. His arms felt so right, so warm and safe and comfortable. Tea plunged her fingers into his thick white hair, tangling them in the silky strands. She opened her mouth, desperate to drink in all of him. He tasted of Earl Grey tea, musky bergamot teasing her senses. She wanted more, much more.

One hand pulled free of his hand and ran down the planes of his face to caress his jaw. She shifted against him, pressing her curves into the hard lines of his body. His hands slid down to cradle her hips. Tea let out a moan of satisfaction. Breaking away from his mouth, she trailed kisses down his jaw, savoring the heat of his skin, the salt of his skin.

Bakura's hands tightened, molding her body to his. "Tea," he groaned into her hair. It sounded almost like a prayer.

In response, she licked his pulse, loving the way it skittered under her touch. "Bakura," she whispered against his skin.

"Ryou."

"What?" Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Call me Ryou. Please."

She met his eyes. The depth of emotion in those chocolate eyes rocked her to her core. "Ryou," she whispered. The syllables sounded strange on her lips, but good. Right. She said them again, just to see how they tasted. "Ryou."

His lips met hers so suddenly and fiercely that she was almost knocked off balance. She clung to his shoulders, every inch of her pressed tight against him. Fire licked through her veins, burning so hotly she thought it would incinerate them both. She didn't care. Not if she could have one more taste, one more touch. Not if she could ride this flame of agonizing pleasure as long as it blazed.

At last, Bakura—no, Ryou—pulled away. He brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Their eyes connected and they shared a smile. Then Ryou looked down at the desk. Suddenly, his expression changed completely. He had gone white—even whiter than his normal pallor—and he looked as though someone had punched him in the face.

"What is it?" Tea asked. She followed his gaze, trying to see what had upset him so much. In a blink of the eye, Ryou ripped the sheet of paper from his notebook and balled it up. _What in the world?_ Tea's fingers itched to grab the paper from him, but she knew she'd never get it out of his fist. But what could possibly have upset him so quickly. "Ryou, what's going on?" She laid a hand on his arm. "What's wrong?"

Ryou wrenched away from her. "Don't touch me!" His face was twisted with an ugly emotion Tea couldn't name. "Just stay away from me."

"But…" Tea stepped toward him, hurt and confusion spiraling through her.

"Stay away!" Ryou shouted. Before Tea could blink, he turned and ran out the doors, leaving her once more alone.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I know it's a short chapter, but due to being sick all weekend long, it was either post a short chapter now or make you all wait another week, so...

* * *

><p>Ryou's hands shook as he unfolded the crumpled piece of paper. Part of him hoped desperately that it would prove to be as blank as the snowy landscape outside the window—no matter how crazy that meant he was. But no, there, in the bold, black scrawl that was so sickeningly similar to his own handwriting were the words he had read earlier.<p>

_**She's mine. **_

Just two words, but Ryou's stomach clenched all over again as he read them. "You can't have her," he whispered to the air. "I won't let you hurt her."

_And just how will you stop me?_

Ryou froze. The last of his fragile hopes smashed into dust as the final vestiges of freedom were yanked out from under his feet. No, there had never been freedom. It had only been an illusion, an impossible dream, like the happiness of the last few minutes. But the dream was over now. He was awake and the shackles were on his feet. Despair rose black before his eyes. What was the point of living when your life was not your own?

_Now, now, landlord, don't carry on like that. _The Spirit's tone was soothing, but Ryou could hear the mockery laced beneath it. I would so hate to have to restrain you from doing something rash.

Restrain. Ryou knew what he meant. To have the Spirit take control of his body fully, leaving Ryou's own conscious locked away in the dark, or worse, fully aware but unable to act, a helpless puppet. It was not an idle threat. Even Ryou didn't know how many days, weeks, even months of his life he might have lost to his soul's parasite. The worst part was that Ryou had no recourse, no way to defend himself. If the Spirit decided to take over his body, Ryou could not repulse him. If the Spirit wanted to take Tea, Ryou couldn't stop either.

"What do you want with Tea, anyway?" Ryou hated himself for the pleading note in his voice.

The Spirit's low chuckle washed over him. _Does there have to be a reason? I want her and I shall have her. That is all there is to it. _

"But there is a reason," Ryou insisted. "You always have a reason."

_So I do._ The Spirit sounded amused. _But I seldom choose to share those reasons with you, landlord. Why should I do so now? _Dark laughter echoed through the spaces of Ryou's mind. _And are you sure you really want to know? _

Ryou gritted his teeth. Normally, he would have abandoned his questioning, knowing to back off before the Spirit's mockery turned to real cruelty. But it wasn't his own life that hung in the balance this time. It was Tea's. It didn't matter what the Spirit did to him if he could only find a way to keep her out of this. "Tell me," he demanded. "Tell me what you want with her!"

_The same thing you want, of course,_ the Spirit sniggered. _I do have to share your body, you know._ That insidious voice lowered, teasing knowingly at Ryou's thoughts. _Don't you think I feel it too? All those chemicals and hormones that shoot through this mortal form whenever you lay eyes on her? You foolish little mortal. Our souls are connected. I see your thoughts. I know the dreams that torture you at night and the fantasies you can't shove away in the night. I feel your lusts. I, more than anyone else, know exactly how much you want Tea Gardner—because I want her too. _

Ryou sucked in a gasp. He had never imagined that his connection the Spirit of the Ring was so… all-encompassing. The Spirit knew **that** about him, had seen his dreams, had felt…Ryou flushed all over. He hugged his arms to his chest as if they were some sort of protection against the malevolent eyes that peered into his being. What he felt for Tea was intensely personal. **No one** had a right to it, most of all someone so foul as the Spirit of the Ring. But still, if they were so deeply joined, Ryou would have thought his feelings for Tea would protect her, not harm her. Somehow, he found the voice to raise his protest. "B-but if you care about Tea the way I do, then why…"

_I said nothing about __**caring**__._ The Spirit spat the word out as if it were poison. _Thankfully I am not reduced to such a pitiful state as sharing your pathetic __**feelings.**_

Ryou shook his head, not understanding. "Then…"

_**Lust**__, you fool. That is what we are discussing here. The most primitive and base of urges…and most powerful as well. _An edge of exasperation sharpened the Spirit's words and Ryou knew he was on dangerous ground_. I find your lusts rather distracting, he explained. Such an overwhelming fervor, a maelstrom of passion. Who would ever believe it of pure, timid Bakura, _he added scornfully_. Months of unbridled longing and all you can manage are a few soft words and a handful of paltry kisses. _But unlike you, I take what I want.

A shiver ran down Ryou's spine. "You can't mean…"

_I am through with having my being invaded by all of your wanton urges,_ the Spirit growled. _I have plans to lay, kings to ensnare, darkness to bring. I cannot waste my time drooling over some adolescent female. _Frustration tinged his words before he slipped back into his smooth, calculating cadence. _This is the perfect opportunity—no interfering Pharaoh to deal with, none of your pesky friends to meddle…I can take the girl, have my fill of her, and get her out of my system for good. No muss, no fuss. I won't even have to kill anyone. You should be happy._

Ryou choked at this last bit. "How can you possibly…" His voice broke with anger. "How dare you? How dare you talk about her that way…plot something so vile?"

The Spirit's bark of laughter echoed in his head. _Do not play the innocent with me, boy. You might be able to fool the others that way, but I know your soul too well for that. Remember, I share your lusts. I would not want her the way that I do if you did not want her first._

"I would never—" Ryou denied hotly.

_Of course you wouldn't._ Ryou got the distant impression that if the Spirit had corporeal form, he would have rolled his eyes. _Because you are weak. Because you are afraid. You lack the power to take what you want and consequently you fear the punishment of those who do possess power. _

"That's not _why_," Ryou seethed. "Only someone as foul and corrupted as you would think that. It's _wrong_, that's why I wouldn't. It's sick, disgusting. _You're_ disgusting—"

_Careful, little one. My tolerance has it's limits._ The icy chill in the Spirit's voice sliced through Ryou's chest. He stumbled backwards, but it was useless. The evil was inside of him.

_You're right, for once. The evil is inside of you. You, not me._ The Spirit laughed, but it was a humorless sound. _You know the most amusing thing about you, my little host? How very little you know yourself. _


	18. Chapter 18

Tea's feet were rooted to the carpet and her eyes were glued on the open library doors. She hadn't moved from the spot since Ryou had fled through them on his desperate escape to whom knows where. _Ryou._ She rolled the name over her tongue like she was teasing the site of a newly-lost tooth. It still felt strange, but it wasn't a bad kind of strange. She could say that about a lot of things lately. Or at least she could have until Ryou had torn out of here like the devil himself was chasing him. Tea's frown deepened. If only she'd gotten a glimpse of that paper. But she hadn't, and now she could only wonder at the reasons for Ryou's abrupt departure.

No sooner had she begun wondering, then Ryou walked in through the doors. A smile sprang to Tea's face, then froze as she watched him come toward her, his silent tread slow and measured. An odd energy came off him. His head was lowered, hiding his eyes. A tiny chill ran down Tea's spine. She bit her lip. "Ryou?"

Slowly, he lifted his head. "Hello, Tea."

* * *

><p>Ryou's pulse pounded in his ears. He wiped his clammy palms on his starchy uniform pants. He avoided Tea's eyes. How could he make himself say the words that needed to be said? All he wanted to do was savor this moment, the way her clear blue eyes lit up when he walked in, the sunny openness of her face, the sheer joy of being with her. He would have to shatter all of that, but couldn't he just have a moment before that? A moment when she wasn't afraid. A moment when it would still be okay to touch her, taste her, hold her in his arms. A moment when it was possible to believe they could still be together, somehow, someway.<p>

No, he couldn't. There wasn't a moment to waste. At any second, the Spirit could snatch away his control over his body. There wouldn't be even a chance to shout a warning before Tea was left alone with the enemy. Besides, the smile was already slipping from Tea's face and wariness filled her eyes. The moment was stillborn. It was already too late.

"Ryou?"

He sighed. "It's me."

She gave a tiny nod. "Is… everything okay?"

Ryou shook his head. "He's back," he whispered. He didn't have to say any more.

"But we threw the Ring away… I watched you…" Ryou said nothing. He watched her slender throat constrict as she swallowed. "Are you sure?" Her voice was remarkably steady; only the slightest tremor betrayed her.

Ryou nodded. "I'm sure. Tea, he…" Ryou balled his hands into fists. "He's after you. You're not safe here, not while I'm around."

"After me?" Tea laughed, but her laughter was brittle. "Why would he come after me?" Ryou didn't answer. He couldn't make his mouth form the words. Tea didn't seem to notice his silence. She was lost in thought, her azure eyes clouded over. "Yugi," she said at last. An air of decision accompanied the unexpected word. Ryou's head jerked up. "He'll be trying to get to Yugi through me," she continued. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw was set. "He won't hurt my friends that easily."

A surge of relief rushed through Ryou at the way she casually paired the words. Yugi. Friend. He shook the feeling away. That was the way Tea always talked about Yugi—and for that matter, the way Yugi talked about Tea, even if in his case it was obviously untrue. Besides, they had far more important things to worry about—and hadn't his feeling for Tea caused enough trouble already? "I don't want anyone to get hurt either," he said softly. His eyes locked with hers. Especially you, he longed to say. What the hell would he do if Bakura hurt her? How could he ever live with himself? His stomach twisted. He didn't even want to imagine the possibility.

"So what do we do?" Tea whispered. She bit her lip and worry creased her forehead. "I don't think I can make it through the snow, Ryou. Not in these clothes."

Ryou nodded. "I'll go. But you have to lock the doors behind me as soon as I'm out."

"I can't do that!" Tea cried, aghast. "Your uniform's barely any warmer than mine. You'll freeze out there!"

"Better me than you," Ryou responded. He looked out the window at the thick banks of crisp white snow and fought back a shiver. "Maybe the Spirit will freeze too." He doubted that. But if the worst did happen, at least he wouldn't be made a puppet anymore.

Tea grabbed his arm. "I can't let you do that." Her eyes met his, softly pleading. "There has got to be a better way."

Ryou shut his eyes. "Then tell me what it is." He slumped, suddenly exhausted. He didn't have the strength to fight both Tea's pleas and his own fear. But he couldn't let the Spirit have the victory, either.

There was a pause, and then Tea's voice came again, sounding thoughtful. "We don't actually have to stop the Spirit for good, you know. We just have to slow him down."

Ryou peered at her, frowning as he tried to sort through her words. She was right, he realized. The Spirit had told Ryou himself that he was striking because it was such an opportune moment. He wouldn't attack Tea if he thought the Spirit in Yugi's Puzzle would be aware of it. If they could somehow keep the Spirit of the Ring contained until the snow plows dug the city out and someone came for them, the Spirit would lose his chance.

No sooner had hope soared in his chest than it sank again. Keep the Spirit contained? They'd have a better chance of caging a thunderstorm. And there was no telling how long they would have to hold out. It could be hours until the roads were clear. "It'll never work. How are we supposed to slow the Spirit down? We have no way to fight him. Even getting rid of the Ring doesn't seem to help."

Tea tilted her head to one side. "We don't actually have to do anything to the Spirit." There was an odd kind of smile playing on her lips. Wariness shot through Ryou's veins. He'd seen that look before. "We'll do it all to you!'


	19. Chapter 19

"Are you really sure this is going to work?"

"Trust me." Tea straightened, examining her work with a critical eye. "How does it feel? Any of the ropes too tight?"

Ryou lifted his wrists experimentally. He got them less than a centimeter from the armrests of Principal Burke's chair before the tight bonds bit into his skin. He jiggled his arm, trying to loosen them. They seemed tight enough, but… "I think you should tighten them."

Tea rolled her eyes—not an unreasonable response, considering it was the third time he'd made this particular request. "We've been over this, Ryou. The goal is to keep you in one spot, not to cut off your circulation." Still, to satisfy him, she gave the cords—thick ties from the office drapes—a cursory tug. The knots were hidden beneath the armrests where he couldn't meddle with them, no matter how he twisted. So far, so good.

"Now for your legs," Tea said, as if reading his thoughts. She reached first for the bungee cable ties that she had gotten from the library carts. Carefully, she tied Ryou's left ankle to the base of the chair.

"Tighter," Ryou said. He wiggled his foot, feeling the plastic wheel braces under his toes. He wondered if the Spirit would be able to kick the chair over and if doing so would help him in any way. Ryou didn't see how, but it was the kind of thing people were always doing in spy movies.

Tea was bent over, her long brown bangs hiding her face, so Ryou couldn't see her eyes roll, but he could hear her huff of exasperation. Still, she pulled the cord a little tighter. It forced Ryou's leg into a less comfortable position, but he said nothing. Cramping legs would be nothing if it kept her safe.

Tea was already working on the right leg. When she had tightened the bungee cord around it to Ryou's satisfaction, she grabbed the heavy rope that Coach Morty used for tug-of-war, and wound it around Ryou's upper body and the back of the chair. Ryou could feel the slack shift and tighten as Tea twisted it or tied it. She looped it back under the armrests, around Ryou's waist, twice and secured it again. Then she wrapped it around his legs, binding them to the metal pole. Finally, she tied the rope to one of the wheel spokes—Ryou could feel the bulge of it against the toe of his shoe—and then dragged the rope to something behind Ryou, where she tied it again. "There," she said at last. "I think you're safe."

"Aren't you going to gag me or something?"

"What? No," Tea laughed. "Why would I do that? That wouldn't be very comfortable for you."

"This isn't about me being comfortable," Ryou insisted. "This is about you being safe from the Spirit of the Ring."

"And I am safe." Tea smiled at him. "Ryou, you can't move. There's no way the Spirit can hurt me now."

An icy hand clenched Ryou's gut. He couldn't share Tea's airy confidence. He'd lived under the Spirit's tyranny for too long to have any assurance of freedom from him. But he hoped this would work. He hoped it with every desperate fiber of his being. "I still think you should gag me."

"If I did that, you wouldn't be able to eat or drink," Tea pointed out, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Not to mention _talk_." She folded her arms across her chest. "It could be hours yet before someone rescues us from this dismal place. I am not getting stuck talking to myself." She winked at him. "Besides, I really don't see how not being gagged would be such an advantage to the Spirit of the Ring. What's he going to do, gnaw the ropes off?" She laughed.

Ryou didn't. "What if he, I dunno, casts a spell or something? Or worse, what if he talks you into something?" He shivered. "He can be very persuasive."

Tea considered this. "When the Spirit takes over, I'll leave the room. Then he won't get to me with a spell or with his power of persuasion. Which I seriously doubt I'd be susceptible to, by the way." Her blue eyes twinkled as she winked at him.

She still wasn't taking this nearly as seriously as she should be. Didn't she have any idea of the danger she was in? Ryou knew full well just how ruthless the Spirit could be when he wanted something—and he knew how much he wanted Tea. "What if you don't know it's him? He imitates me, you know. You wouldn't know who you were dealing with until it was too late." He sucked in his breath as he imagined it.

Tea laid a hand on his shoulder and Ryou looked up into her eyes. "I think I know you pretty well, Ryou." She gave him a smile that sent warmth spiralling down to the tips of his toes. "I'll know the difference."

He wanted to believe her. Especially the way she was looking at him now. He wanted to believe that anything was possible, that hope and light and love were real and powerful, that they could protect both of them from the darkness. If only he didn't know the darkness quite so well…

Tea's fingers brushed along his jawline. "Trust me, Ryou." Her head was close to his now, her words soft in his ear. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Ryou swallowed. "You're the one I want to protect."

"I know." Her voice was a whisper against his skin. "Which is so sweet of you." A soft hand stroked his cheek. Lavender teased his senses. Ryou closed his eyes, drinking in the tiny sensations.

So it caught him completely off-guard when lips as soft as a butterfly's wing brushed his own.

Despite himself, he jerked backwards, his head hitting the stuffed leather back of the chair. His eyes flew open to see Tea's blue ones, wide and luminous, above him. She blushed, drawing back. "S-sorry. I guess I shouldn't have…"

"No, no," Ryou hastened to reassure her. "I was just startled. It was nice. It really was."

Tea relaxed and drew closer again. Her fingers played over his forearm, sliding lightly over the skin. Ryou bit his lip. It was such a simple touch, barely sensual, yet it sent spirals of heat whirling through his skin. Her other hand brushed a stray lock off his brow, tucking it behind his ear. The scent of her was everywhere, warm, soft, and inviting.

Ryou's eyelids drifted lower as he leaned in to capture her lips. The thick rope across his torso dug into his flesh as he strained forward. Tea giggled, her tantalizing lips still inches away. "Silly, Ryou. Did you forget that you're all tied up?" She leaned towards him, but not enough. Her fingers caressed the curve of his cheek.

Ryou was in no mood to savor the delicate touch. He wanted to kiss her, blast these ridiculous bonds. He strained once more towards her, trying to force the ropes to give just a little more. Just another inch…

No good. Ryou nearly growled in frustration.

Tea laughed again. "What's wrong, Ryou?" Her tone was a touch _too_ innocent and there was a wicked twinkle in her eyes. That minx! She was _enjoying_ this!

"Come closer," Ryou told her.

"Why?" Her fingers trailed along his jaw.

"Tea." Exasperation tinged his voice. "I want to kiss you."

"Oh, is that it?"Tea grinned cheekily. "Then why don't you get on with it?"

"I can't," Ryou growled. "As you perfectly well know."

"Now that's a shame." Deliberately, Tea ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. Heat shifted deep inside Ryou. His hands tightened on the armrests, helpless to do anything else. Grinning wickedly, Tea let her fingers trace the curve of his mouth. "Such nice lips you have too. A kiss might be quite…" She sighed seductively, moving in. "…nice."

Ryou pulled against the ropes, but she had calculated the distance too precisely. There was still a whisper of breath between them. Ryou couldn't stop the groan of frustration that ripped from his lips. Tea's grin widened. She lowered her head just a touch, planting a feather-like kiss on his jaw. Ryou tried to shift to catch it on his mouth, but she was too fast for him. No sooner had he moved, then she pulled away. She shook a finger at him. "Naughty boy. You keep that up and there'll be no kisses at all for you." Her eyes twinkled outrageously.

She leaned back in and Ryou forced himself to be still as her lips fluttered along his jawline to the sensitive junction where his cheek curved into his neck. He squirmed a little as she hesitated, her breath hot on his skin. Ryou closed his eyes and braced himself for another barely-there kiss. His eyes flew open. Heat jolted through his veins as the wet warmth of her tongue teased at his flesh.

"What are you doing?" he gasped.

"Hush." She nipped lightly at his skin. Ryou let out a yelp, but it was a sound as much of pleasure as pain. Tea laved the mark with her tongue, soothing it. "There's a good boy," she cooed in his ear.

Her fingers dipped under his collar, pulling it aside as her mouth followed, now skimming, now tasting the hot skin beneath. Incoherent sounds of pleasure burst from Ryou's lips as the trail of fire worked its way lower and lower, leaving a symphony of delicious sensations in its wake. His arms strained desperately against their bonds, aching to hold her, to press her soft curves against every inch of his smoldering body. His fingers itched to caress that satiny skin, to trace the sculpted planes of her cheeks, to bury themselves in the silky chestnut strands that fell around her face. But the ties held fast. All he could do was sit rigid, helpless against the flood of fire, as Tea worked her wicked will.

Lower and lower her fingers dipped until at last the tight barrier of his collar could be pushed aside no longer. Ryou held his breath, wondering what she would do next. Her eyes flickered up to his, an impish light in their azure depths. Then they lowered as she focused on the tiny buttons of his collar. Ryou watched her face as her fingers worked. Flushed with pleasure, her eyes bright, Ryou didn't think he'd ever seen her look so beautiful. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth as she frowned in concentration. Finally, the buttons came loose and the stiff fabric of the collar relaxed, baring his throat.

Tea wasted no time in taking advantage of the access. Her head bent, hiding her lovely features from Ryou. The brief stab of disappointment he felt was quickly replaced with a feverish rush of pleasure as she nuzzled the sensitive flesh. He arched his neck, opening it further to Tea's delectation, as wordless groans escaped him. Tea paid no attention to his cries. All of her focus was on the column of white skin before her. She teased him mercilessly, flicking her tongue along the straining veins, grazing the pale skin with her teeth, everywhere trailing those petal-soft lips. And then her tongue found his pulse and Ryou thought he would die from sheer bliss. She pressed her open mouth against him and suckled the sensitive spot, first gently, and then fiercely. Lost to all restraint, Ryou's cries and groans filled the quiet classroom. He tossed and writhed under her ministrations, only the ropes and ties holding him in place.

When at last, it seemed she had drawn every groan and shout from his body, Tea lifted her head. A highly satisfied smirk curved those talented lips. Ryou said nothing. All he could do was gape at her. Still smirking, Tea tossed her hair and rolled her shoulders luxuriously. Then she straightened and advanced towards him. "I think you've been patient long enough, don't you?" she whispered, and kissed him on the lips.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: As most of you have noticed, the story has been heating up recently, with some more sensual scenes. This has been my planned direction from the very beginning and things will probably only get more intense from here. However, everything will stay PG13 for the time being. Rest assured, if there was explicit content, I would warn you at the beginning of the chapter! (Also, the rating would go to M). If you have opinions on the "heat level", please let me know. I read all my reviews even if I don't always get to respond to them all. If you think I need to back off or that the rating should go up, feel free to to let me know. (Not that I've gotten any negative responses so far, but I am sensitive to the fact that readers might have negative reactions but not want to share them. It's okay. I listen to those too.)

Enough blathering. On with the story.

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><p>His mouth opened instantly under hers and a sweetness like nothing Tea had ever tasted tore at her senses. Warmth flooded her and she leaned in, grabbing at the top if the leather chair to support her as she all but toppled into Ryou's lap. This was what she had been wanting, she thought, as she deepened the kiss. This was where she belonged. There was something so right about being in Ryou's arms, something so safe and sweet.<p>

She felt the moment when the kiss shifted. It felt like lightning in the air, tingling on her skin. One moment it had been her kiss, and now it was his. Somehow, despite the ties that bound him, he had taken control and they both knew it. Fire licked through her blood, followed by a fierce hunger. She cupped his jaw with both hands, pulling him closer. The taste of him was heady; Tea couldn't get enough of it. She shifted incessantly against him, trying to get more of the honeyed fire that intoxicated her, the blaze that felt as though it would incinerate her where she stood. And still, it was not enough.

His tongue flicked against the roof of her mouth and a moan burst from her. Her fingers dug into his hair, clutching the silky explored deeper, ravishing her with his tongue. He could not hold, could not caress, could not touch her, and yet with only his mouth he wrung endless pleasure from her. Their tongues met in an electric storm of passion. The thunder rolled through her, shuddering in the deep, secret places of her being. The outside world was lost to her and she to it. There was only this crackling, searing tempest and the ache of desire in her veins. Tea surrendered herself to it fully.

After what might have been an eternity, or what might have been only a few minutes, they broke apart. Tea drew back, panting slightly. She giggled a little at the realization that she was practically sitting in Ryou's lap. How had that happened? She brushed her hair out of her face as she looked back up at Ryou, eyes sparkling. She gasped. All the laughter drained from her in an instant. The eyes that stared back at her were dark and malevolent and the gentle face that she had come to love was twisted in a sneer. It was no longer Ryou that sat there in the over-sized leather chair, but the Spirit of the Millennium Ring. And he was laughing.

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><p>Tea scrambled backwards, practically flinging herself off of him. "Y-you!" Her legs wobbled and her voice shook.<p>

"Me," agreed the Spirit in tones of satisfaction. "But what's wrong, my pretty Tea? You seemed like you were enjoying yourself."

Tea's face burned. Anger and humiliation washed over her in fierce sheets. "I thought you were Ryou," she spat.

The Spirit chuckled. "Did you really? How foolish of you. My little host wouldn't have any idea of how to kiss like that."

Tea hugged her arms to her chest, her mind whirling. It was true. The other times Ryou had kissed her, it hadn't been anything like that. Ryou's kisses were sweet and tender, not furious storms that swept you out to sea. She should have known the difference. Of course, she hadn't exactly been thinking clearly. Another flush swept over her skin, but this time it wasn't anger that smoldered inside her, but something more insidious. Tea blew out a long breath. Had it really been the Spirit's kiss that she had responded to, the Spirit's kiss that had made her feel that way—like she was the molten heart of a volcano?

As if he could read her thoughts, the Spirit's smirk widened. "It was a man's kiss I gave you, not a boy's." Unwillingly, Tea found herself meeting his eyes. They pulled her in, mysterious and knowing. She felt as though they saw inside of her, peered into all the dark places she didn't want anyone to see. Could he see the smoldering inside of her as well? She tightened her arms across her chest, but she knew it wouldn't help. She didn't want to admit the way the kiss had made her feel, but she feared the Spirit already knew.

She took a step backwards. "What do you want?"

"The same thing you do." His voice sent shivers down her spine.

"I don't understand."

"Oh, but I think you do." There was a gleam in his eye that suddenly made Tea feel stripped bare. Heat rushed to her face—_again_—and she looked away. But the Spirit was still talking. "Why so frightened?" He tugged his arms uselessly against the restraints. "I can't hurt you. Your idea, was it? Very clever." His lips curved in what _might _have been a genuinely appreciative grin.

Tea would not be lulled so easily. "You're evil," she said bluntly.

A frosty eyebrow arched. "That seems a little harsh."

"You nearly killed Tristan and Joey back in Duelist Kingdom," she accused. "And maybe the rest of us, too." She shivered at the recollection. Her memories were vague and strange, almost more like dream than fact, but she remembered the emotions vividly—the desperate struggle against the darkness, the fear and panic of sudden attack, the piercing sorrow of Joey's sacrifice, the sharp, almost painful hope of victory…

The Spirit smiled. "That was a _game_," he said, as if soothing a child. "Going to the graveyard in a game isn't the same thing as dying. It doesn't seem to hurt the Dark Magician, or any other of little Yugi's precious cards, does it."

"What about the Reaper of Cards?" she asked. "Joey said…"

"I'm here, aren't I?" His smile widened. "Clearly, it didn't hurt me any."

Tea frowned. She didn't exactly believe him, but she couldn't refute his arguments, either. She tried another tack. "You're an enemy of the other Yugi's—the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle. You can't deny that!"

An ugly expression twisted his features. "I have no wish to deny it," he growled, and there was real hatred in his voice. Then his face cleared and his words dripped butter once more. "But that is an old grievance, millennia in the making. What has that to do with you and me?"

"He's my friend," she said simply.

"_Just_ your friend?" Tea felt herself coloring. The Spirit chuckled. "Does little Ryou know what a good _friends_ you are," he sneered. "Poor deluded fool. I almost pity him."

"I _care_ about Ryou," Tea snapped. Anger shot through her veins. "How dare you try to act like he means _anything_ to you? You're nothing but a parasite. You use him, taking over his body, destroying his life. If you cared about him even a little bit you would leave and never come back!"

She was practically shouting by the end of this speech, but the Spirit seemed completely unfazed. He met her eyes calmly, cocking his head a little as if considering her words. "A parasite, am I? You might say the same about your precious Pharaoh, your so-good friend." A sneer curled his lip as he pronounced the words, but he did not let bitterness soak his words like before. "But you wouldn't, of course. You would say he has his own reasons for possessing his vessel, for taking over the body of little Yugi. And so do I." Something flickered in the depths of his eyes. "But you say that my vessel means nothing to me. You are wrong." His mouth pressed in a harsh line, his sardonic humor leaving. "Do you know how many untold centuries my spirit moldered, clinging to bare metal and dark magic?" There was something deeply unsettling about his gaze, but for once it wasn't directed at Tea. He stared off into space, lost in grim memory. "Thousands of years, I waited for Fate to bring me to Ryou." He recollected he was speaking to Tea and his eyes flicked back to her. "So you see, I will not easily lose him." A crooked smile sliced his features, but even Tea could see there was no humor behind it. "I do care for my host, my dear Tea. In my own fashion."

"Then let him go." The words came from her in a pleading gasp before she was even aware she had spoken. "Let him come back. Please."

The Spirit's eyes twinkled and suddenly he was all cynical laughter again. "Perhaps I will. Or perhaps I won't. It all depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On you, of course." A mocking chuckle shivered down Tea's spine. "Let's play a game."


	21. Chapter 21

"A game?" Tea echoed. She stepped backwards. The room seemed colder and greyer, shadows looming ominously. She was suddenly very thoroughly aware of just who it was sitting across from her.

"Relax," the Spirit chuckled. "I didn't mean a shadow game. For one thing, you don't have a Millennium Item. It wouldn't be worth the bother."

Tea took a gulp of air. Relief rushed through her,yet she wasn't exactly flattered to hear that her immortal soul wasn't worth the trouble of gambling for. She planted her hands on her hips. "What _did_ you have in mind?" And why was she still here, listening to this?

"Just a little wager on a simple game of chance." His eyes glittered. "You have a coin, don't you?"

Tea blinked in surprise. As a matter of fact, she didn't. Her school uniform didn't have any pockets—stupid sexist design. There was money in her purse, of course, but that was in her backpack down in the library. As she was standing there, trying to figure out how to respond, her eyes lit on Ms. Evans' s desk. There, in the little tray, half hidden behind the messy pile of papers, were a few pennies and a nickel. Tea walked over and scooped up the nickel. She turned it over in her hand, the metal smooth and cold against her fingers. "I have one here," she told the Spirit. "Why?"

"That's all we need to play this game," he told her. "Just you, me, and that coin."

Tea arched an eyebrow suspiciously. "And the wager you mentioned?"

"Yes, that's part of it. It's childishly easy, really. All you have to do is flip that coin."

"Flipping a coin?" Tea echoed skeptically. "That's a game now?" There had to be more to it, some catch.

The Spirit smiled. "A game of chance. We let Fate decide." He lifted his eyes to hers, a challenge gleaming in their bronze lights. "Best out of three. Heads, I leave and Ryou comes back."

"And tails?" asked Tea warily.

He favored her with a predatory smile. "Tails, you give me a kiss."

Shock tingled through her. "A k-kiss?" she gasped.

"Oh come now, you needn't act so flabbergasted." The Spirit gazed at her through low-lidded eyes. "I know how much you enjoyed our last kiss."

"_I thought it was Ryou,"_ Tea hissed for the second time. She didn't return the Spirit's gaze.

"But it wasn't." The Spirit sounded smug. "It was me."

And there it was, the incontrovertible fact that Tea had been trying, miserably, to ignore for the past five minutes. She _had_ enjoyed it. There had been something thrilling about it, something primal and untamed. Most of her knew that that playing this game with Bakura would be a horrible idea. He was dangerous and evil and she should walk away now, like she had promised Ryou she would. But a tiny part of her wanted another taste. A tiny of part of her liked dangerous. And watching the smirk play across the Spirit's face, he knew it too.

"Come now," he cajoled. "It isn't as though I can do anything to you." He attempted to lift his arms, demonstrating that the ties still held. "What harm is there in a little kiss?" Tea didn't answer, but she didn't leave, either. "Of course, that's if you lose. Who knows, you might even win."

Tea snorted. "I know better than to think you play fair." She folded her arms across her chest. Her good sense was coming back to her now.

"You wound me," drawled the Spirit in affected tones. Tea rolled her eyes. "I am many things, but a cheat is not one of them. Besides, how could I cheat even if I wanted to? You picked the coin and you'll flip the coin. I can't even get close to it."

Tea bit her lip. He had a point. She didn't trust the Spirit—she wasn't that much of an idiot—but it did seem impossible for him to affect the outcome of the coin flip. She turned the nickel over in her palm. It was just an ordinary nickel, the milling rough on her fingertips, but Jefferson's profile worn smooth, now warm and a little sweaty from being clutched in her hand. She hefted it a little. "If I win, you swear you'll give Ryou back control?"

The Spirit nodded. "For the time being, anyway. We're not playing for all eternity here, you understand."

Tea accepted this. No doubt the Spirit would be slippery with just what constituted "the time being," but she didn't expect anything less. Even an hour or so would probably be enough to last until the snowplows dug them out and the telephone lines were repaired. She'd never imagined the bargain the Spirit was offering extended beyond that.

But would he hold to it at all? That was the question. She met his eyes. "And you swear?"

His eyes narrowed just a touch. "My word is good." He seemed genuinely insulted by her doubt. That didn't lessen it one bit, but Tea knew she wouldn't get any better assurance out of him. She took a deep breath. "Okay." The word came out with a squeak—not the careless confidence she had hoped to project.

He smiled. "Go ahead. Flip the coin."

Tea lifted her hand. She tried to smile. If the other Yugi were here, he would smile. He'd stand tall and proud with his shoulders squared and a devil-may-care smile on his face. But he wasn't here and he certainly wouldn't be playing against the Spirit of the Millennium Ring for such ridiculous stakes.

She tossed the nickel in the air and watched as it came down in a silvery arc. She caught it. "Heads." A genuine smile split her features as relief rushed through her.

"Best out of three," the Spirit reminded her, unperturbed.

Still smiling, she tossed the coin again. Her smile disappeared. "Tails."

The Spirit gave a tiny nod, but his expression didn't change. Tea gritted her teeth. She would have liked it better if he had gloated.

Her hand tightened around the nickel. She brought her fist up to her mouth, blowing on it for luck. She didn't look at the Spirit. If he was laughing at her, she didn't want to see. She flipped the coin. It came down in her palm like a leaden weight. She looked down. Somehow, she already knew what she would see. _Tails_. Her mouth dried and the coin clattered to the floor.

"You _are_ a woman of your word, aren't you?" The words slid over her skin like a caress.

A great shuddering breath left her lungs. What had she done? But she had made a deal. She walked towards him. Her legs felt like jelly, but she managed not to trip or wobble.

"That's right." The Spirit was smiling. " I knew I could count on you. Besides, maybe I'll give you another chance to play for my little host's freedom. Afterwards. If you make it a good one." He licked his lips.

"I despise you," Tea hissed as she stepped in front of the oversized leather chair.

He smiled. "That makes it all the sweeter." He waited.

Tea leaned in. "Just one kiss," she reminded him. "That's all." Then, before he could respond, before she could lose her nerve, she kissed him.

The familiar heat seethed through her, but this time, she fought it. She would not lose herself to him, not again, no matter what kind of sensations he awakened inside of her. But it was hard to keep her focus when his mouth was on hers, burning fire in her veins. He parted his lips, but Tea refused to do the same. He didn't like that. A growl rumbled low in his throat. His tongue flicked out, teasing at the seam of her lips. Desire sliced through her, sharp as a knife. Stubbornly, she kept them sealed. He shifted lower, taking her bottom lip in his mouth and sucked hard. Then, he nipped at her lip with his teeth. Tea gasped. How did he do it? It was like he knew exactly how to torment her with sweet pleasure. He left her no time to ponder the issue. No sooner had the breath ripped from her lungs, he covered her mouth with his, aggressively invading her mouth with his tongue. A torrent of molten desire shuddered through her. She was lost. On their own accord, her fingers laced through his hair, her hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him close. She moved against him, with him, opening her mouth to his relentless conquest, oblivious to everything but the pleasure spiraling through her veins and the heat pooling in her center.

He pulled away first, leaving her panting, breathless and senseless. Her senses churned; her mind scrambled to catch up. Slowly, far too slowly. He was already laughing at her—not out loud, but with his eyes. "Do you still despise me, my sweet Tea?"

Tea straightened, her face flushed, chest heaving, lips swollen. "More than ever." She turned away, trying to preserve some last scrap of her dignity.

"I won't even bother to ask you if you enjoyed that." She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the smirk in the Spirit's voice. "Wouldn't want you to sully your conscience with lies." Tea ground her teeth and said nothing. She started to walk away, but the Spirit called after her. "I will, however, ask you if you want to try again. You do want another chance to free poor Ryou, don't you?" Slowly, Tea turned. The Spirit grinned. "After all, if it wasn't to help Ryou, why did you agree in the first place?" His voice dripped mockery. "It wasn't because you're attracted to me, by any chance, was it?"

"No," Tea said grimly. "It wasn't."

"_Oh, Tea,"_ The Spirit shook his head, looking for all the world like a disappointed teacher. "What did I say about lying?"

"Shut up," Tea hissed through gritted teeth. She bent to pick up the nickel from the floor where she'd dropped it. "Same stakes as before?"

"That wouldn't be quite fair. I've already gotten my prize once. To keep my interest, you'll have to up the ante a little."

"I am not untying you," Tea told him flatly.

"Of course not. Nothing so drastic." He smirked. "Just take a piece of clothing off—your choice. Along with the kiss, of course."

Tea crossed her arms. "What, is this supposed to be strip-coin toss now? What do you take me for, some cheap sorority girl?"

The Spirit arched a snowy eyebrow. "I had no idea you were so puritanical, Gardner. " His voice lowered conspiratorially. "You don't kiss like it."

"Shut up, Bakura." She would have slapped him if he were within arms reach. Instead she settled for a glare that did precisely nothing to strike terror into his heart. "But no, I shouldn't call you that," she muttered. "That's Ryou's name."

The Spirit laughed. "It was mine before it was his. Long millennia ago. Call me Bakura, if you wish. I like the way it sounds on your lips."

"Even when I'm screaming at you?" Tea replied tartly.

"_Especially_ when you're screaming." The silky promise in his words sent shivers down her spine. "Now, do we have ourselves a game?"

Tea rolled the nickel between her fingertips as she thought. She swallowed. _In for a penny, in for a pound. _"Let's play."


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: I am so sorry about the long delay. Combination of writer's block and an extremely hectic schedule. Good news is, summer's here and I should have plenty of time to write, so updates should be frequent and regular from here on out. Thanks to all my loyal readers for bearing with me. You guys are awesome.

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><p>Tea's hands shook as she held out the silver coin, belying the confident smile she had pasted on her face. Bakura's smile widened. What a delightful contrast she was. A bundle of nerves and tender emotions, yet beneath it, she had spirit and plenty of it. He let his gaze linger over her would have thought his spineless host would have such good taste in women?<p>

The coin flashed in the air. As it came down, Tea caught it on the back of her hand. Bakura shifted his position on the chair just a touch so he could see it. "Tails," he said.

Tea shot him a glare. Bakura just smirked. She really was too easy to provoke. And oh, how he planned to be provocative. He bit back a chuckle. No sense in scaring her off. Not when he almost had her where he wanted her.

She flipped the coin again. Briefly, Bakura wondered if he should use shadow magic on it, but he dismissed the idea. He hadn't needed it last time, had he? Besides, the girl was close to the Pharaoh. She'd felt the shadow's touch before. He couldn't resist her recognizing it now and panicking. It would spoil everything. It was much better to be patient and let Lady Luck take the lead. And if she failed him? He shrugged. Maybe he would let the runt take over, for a little while, anyway. Or maybe he'd simply let her think he had done so. It was a simple enough matter to imitate Ryou; he'd done it countless times. And then once the girl had let her guard down…

But none of that was necessary, not right now. Bakura had missed the result of the coin toss, but the way she was staring at him, eyes big, mouth twisted, face flushed, could mean only one thing. He smiled. He loved to win.

"Well?" he graveled. "I'm waiting for my prize, my sweet."

Tea's eyes flashed. Blue eyes were not nearly as rare in this time and place as they had been in the Egypt that Bakura had known, but still he found hers to be something special. The exact color of lapis laluzi, as clear as a cloudless sky, as pure as fresh spring water. But they were no dead gems, no distant sky, no cold pools of water. There was a fire inside of them, and when she was angry, they blazed.

They were blazing now as she strode towards him. Bakura smiled. She was angry, but anger was only a whisper away from passion. And passion was precisely what he wanted from her.

Her hand went the collar of her blazer. Bakura watched her fingers unfasten the buttons. She undid them slowly, fidgeting and tugging and prolonging the task as much as possible. Did she think if she stalled long enough, some one would burst in to rescue her? A knight in shining armor come to slay the dragon and ride away with the fair maiden? No, she was idealistic and romantic, but she was not stupid. She knew there was no one around but the two of them in this room. But still she drew out the unbuttoning. Why? For herself, to put off the inevitable? Maybe. But he had thought her the kind of girl to toss back the bitter medicine in one gulp, not savor it sip by sip.

Then her eyes darted to his face. They lingered for the briefest of instants, but long enough for him to recognize their expression. She was gauging _his_ reaction. That minx! She was deliberately _trying_ to make him angry with her delaying. His grin widened. If Ryou had half her spirit, he would make a far more amusing host—if a more troublesome one.

Bakura settled back into the chair, dark eyes fixing on those long, slender fingers. Tea had nerve, but she had miscalculated. He was not angry at all. Not even in the slightest. Every slowly unfastened button stirred his blood. What a flirt she was. A natural one. Artless, untutored, without any intention of seducing, she plied her feminine wiles with the skill of a experienced courtesan. His mind raced, imagining what would come next.

At last, however, the buttons came to an end and so did Bakura's fantasies. Tea let out a tiny gasp of surprise as she reached for the next button, only for her fingers to connect with empty air. Her white throat quivered a little as she swallowed, but she hesitated for only a second. She pushed the blazer off her shoulders. With just a few tugs, it fell to the floor. Tea straightened and looked Bakura full in the eyes. "Are you satisfied now?" she demanded.

He let his eyes roam over her shapely form for just an instant before they returned to hers. He grinned. "Not yet."

Lightning crackled in the cloudless blue of her eyes, but she held the storm in check as she closed the distance between them. The white undershirt she wore was thin, almost sheer. Unlike the thick blazer, it did little the hide the bounce of her full breasts as she walked, and it tantalized with a hint of rosy flesh beneath the white. Bakura's fingers itched to rip the blouse from her body. His blood blazed in his veins, desire hazing his thoughts. He would throw her to the floor, he would take her then and there. Hard. Violently. _Relentlessly_. Again and again until he was utterly sated.

The chafing of the ropes against his wrists brought him back to himself. He breathed in deeply, ignoring the aching in his loins. It was not his way to smash and grab. His was the intricate plan. His was the slow, savored revenge. He had waited too long for Tea Gardner to spoil it all with rushing now. She would come to his of her accord and he would relish every instant of it. He simply had to be patient.

* * *

><p>Tea quavered under Bakura's heated gaze. <em>Why is he staring at me like that?<em> He'd leered at her before—at least she'd thought he had—but not like this. She felt like she was naked and fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. It was just a blazer, she told herself over again. Taking it off didn't reveal any skin that hadn't been exposed already, except for her forearms—and heaven knew Bakura had seen those before. She bit her lip. This was decidedly _not_ a situation to be invoking heaven in. Not when the devil himself sat in front of her, undisguised lust burning in his eyes.

She had to keep control of herself this time. Her hands clenched against the memory of the way she had succumbed the last time, the way her resolve had crumbled against his assault of pleasure. Her cheeks burned and her nails dug into the flesh of her palms. Not this time. This time she would gird herself with icy reserve. A quick peck, that's all her end of the deal required, and that's all she would give him.

Tea swallowed. Her mouth felt dry. She had as much chance that she could keep her control as she did of keeping a snowball frozen in her hands as she walked through the Sahara.

Standing here, it was easy to remember that she despised him, to remember what kind of evil he was, and all of the reasons why she shouldn't be standing here at all, why she should have fled as soon as she realized it was him. But the instant they touched….Her eyelids fluttered as she recalled the fire that had sparked in her blood and smoldered through her veins. The fire had engulfed her common sense and burned away all her restraint. She shivered. If Bakura hadn't pulled away, it might have consumed her entirely. She sucked in her breath. Now, she would set her hand to the flame once more. Would she really draw it back unscathed?


	23. Chapter 23

With every step she took, Tea's heart pounded in her chest. _This is insane,_ she thought. Her head was she doing this, really? To help Ryou? She looked up at Bakura, his dark eyes glittering as they fixed on her. He would never keep up his end of the bargain. Perhaps he was already cheating. It would explain her streak of incredible bad luck

She took a deep breath as she took the final step to Bakura. No, there was only one way to help Ryou—if she had the courage to see it through.

Tea closed her eyes as she leaned in, erasing all the distance between them. The fire ignited the instant their lips connected. Tea forced herself to ignore it. She cold not afford to succumb to him this time, no matter how intoxicating his touch. She had to remember what she was doing.

Her hands slipped to his shoulders as the kiss deepened. His tongue teased at the entrance of her mouth and Tea surrendered, opening to him. The desire burning between them was longer a blaze, it was an inferno, and her infernal lover was doing his best to drag her deeper into it. She dragged her hand through his mass of white hair, her fingers tangling in the silky locks. Her hand slid down his broad chest, scrabbling at the buttons of his jacket.

He chuckled, his deep laughter shivering through her. "My lovely little wanton," he murmured against her skin. His lips brushed over the curve of her cheek, his tongue snaking out to taste the sensitive flesh. Tea moaned and pushed him back against the leather chair. Her fingers tightened on her fistful of hair as she captured his lips again. As their mouths warred, Tea lost her balance, tumbling into Bakura's lap. She gripped at his jacket to keep from falling. Neither of them paid attention to the loud rip and the shower of buttons that followed. They were too lost in the wildfire passion flaming with every touch.

Mere kisses were no longer enough. Bakura nuzzled her throat as she writhed against him. Her legs were splayed on either side of his, only his school-issue trousers between them. With her hands, she pushed aside the torn remnants of his jacket, exposing the thin white undershirt beneath. As Bakura groaned, she trailed her fingers down his chest—until they connected with something solid and cool.

Her fingers tightened around the gold circle of the Millennium Ring. As fast as thought, she yanked it over his head, all trace of ardor gone as she leapt from his lap. Heart pounding, she stared at him. "Ryou?" she asked hopefully.

"'Fraid not."

Tea's heart sank. "B-but, I thought…" she twisted her hands around the cool metal of the Ring. How was this possible?

Bakura smirked. "You don't understand. I own him now. I possess his body. I have a place in his soul. The Ring is the source of this possession, yes, but I do not need it to retain mastery of this boy." He chuckled. "And I do not need to actually touch the Ring to be connected to it."

Tea took a step backwards. She was trembling now, her bold plan crumbling around her ankles. "I'll destroy it," she threatened.

Bakura's smile widened. "You couldn't possibly. Even I don't know how such a thing could be accomplished."

Tea swallowed hard. "Then I'll get rid of it," she vowed. "I'll send it far, far away. You won't be able to use the Ring's power to control Ryou then, will you?"

Bakura shrugged. He didn't look disturbed in the slightest. "It will come back to me," he said confidently. "It always does."

As Tea stood, hesitating, he stretched his hand out. "Give it to me, Tea. I will regain it anyway, one way or another."

Tea shook her head. "No. I might not be able to stop you, but I won't help you."

"Not even if I let you have a little visit with Ryou?" His dark eyes gleamed as he smiled at her. "That's what you want, isn't it? That's why you played all my games—unless there was another reason?" His eyebrow arched speculatively as his eyes wandered over Tea's form. Heat rushed to Tea's face. Bakura's smile widened. "If you give me the Ring, I will release Ryou," he promised.

"For how long?"

Bakura shrugged. "A few hours, at least. Until I get bored." He grinned wolfishly. "What do you say?"

Tea drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. She looked down at the glittering Ring in her hands. No more games. Just a simple trade—the Ring for Ryou. After all she had wagered and lost in her games with Bakura, it seemed almost a no-brainer. Almost. But hadn't she just learned how dangerous a deal with the devil could be? She bit her lip as she ran a finger over the curve of the gold circle. Should she really give back the Ring? It was the source of his power—he hadn't denied that. She shuddered as she remembered how he had once used it to imprison her and her friends inside their favorite Duel Monsters cards. Something so dangerous, she couldn't give it so someone as wicked as Bakura.

But he'll get it anyway, she told herself. Was she really willing to throw away her best chance to help Ryou for such a futile endeavor? But it was only Bakura's word that the Ring would return to him. And Bakura was a liar. She couldn't trust him—not about the Ring, not about keeping his promise.

She raised her eyes to find him watching her. She lifted her chin. "No." The word was quiet, but forceful.

Bakura's smile disappeared. "What did you say?" There was an ugly snarl in his formerly butter-smooth voice.

Tea squared her shoulders. "You heard me."

Bakura scowled. "You'll regret that decision."

"We'll see." Tea smirked. "What are you going to do about it from that chair?" With a toss of her head, she turned away, leaving him to ruminate on that little gem. She started to walk towards the door.

Suddenly, a steely hand caught her wrist. Startled, Tea twisted to look behind her. She gasped. "Bakura?" No sooner had the word left her lips than her other hand was imprisoned by his. She stared up at his cold, pitiless eyes. "B-but how?" she whispered.

Bakura laughed. "Did you really think there was any bond that you could tie that could hold me? _Me_, the Thief King himself?"

Tea stared up at him in sick apprehension. "Apparently not," she muttered under her breath.

Bakura's iron grip on one of her wrists eased as he relieved her of the Millennium Ring. She briefly considered trying to yank free of his other hand and making a run for it, but no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than Bakura reached over her shoulder and closed the door. Tea gulped. Bakura slipped the leather cord around his neck, the gleaming golden Ring nestling in the folds of his ruined jacket.

He brushed a stray strand of hair from Tea's cheek, sliding his fingers possessively over her skin until they rested at the base of her chin. He tilted her chin so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes. They were as dark as a pool of blood, the expression in them unreadable. "And now," he said, his voice shivering through Tea's body, "what shall I do with you, my proud beauty?"


	24. Chapter 24

Endless shadows flickered in and out of existence, washing over him like rolling waves. He relaxed, rocked in the darkness' embrace like a babe in a cradle. Calm. Peaceful. Safe.

_Safe? _

His eyelids fluttered at that thought. He _wasn't_ safe. Not here. He was—Oh, what did it matter? A fresh wave of weariness rolled over him and he let his eyes close again.

No! Something was wrong. He struggled to open his eyes, but it was harder this time. His eyelids felt so heavy…There was nothing to see, anyway, only endless variations of black, with the occasional tinge of deepest purple. Nothing else existed. Only darkness.

No, there had to be something else. Dim memories surfaced—light, colors, voices—but were washed away by the shadows almost as quickly as they had come. Maybe there had once been something else, something bright and beautiful, but not any more. With his eyes open, he could see the whole of the bleak universe—a sea of blackness, a sky of grey, with flickers of aubergine playing over the surface. Nothing else, but distant echoes. He tried not to listen to those. When he tuned them out, they were just a dull murmur in the background. He couldn't even tell they were screams.

But now he was listening and he couldn't keep the sounds from pounding into him. He gritted his teeth. They weren't real, he reminded himself, trying to block them out. They were as insubstantial as the waves and the sky and everything else about this place. He knew, because the voice screaming was always the same—his own.

All he had to do to forget the screaming was close his eyes and sink back into the billowing waves of blackness. The shadows would lull him back to sleep and everything would be calm and peaceful. It would be so easy. But no, he had to fight. There was something he had to remember. He had to _try._

He grabbed at the undulating jet. It dissipated between his fingers, not even leaving moisture behind, like water or clouds would do. This place wasn't real. He knew that when he was thinking—when he was awake. But what was reality? Was he even real? How could he be, if h lived in a place like this? When he didn't know a thing about himself, not even his name?

_Cogito, ergo sum. _I think, therefore I am. He had learned that somewhere. Memories teased at his consciousness—white walls, hard seats, a voice, a hand, writing words on the wall…School! The word came to him in a flash, and with it, another burst of memories, clearer and brighter. Teachers, clocks, and ringing bells. Classmates, dressed in navy blue and bright pink. His friends—he had friends! Of course he did. Yugi, Joey, Tristan, Tea.

_Tea._

Like a lightning bolt, memory electrified him. Great Scott, how could he have forgotten Tea? Just the sound of her name reverberating inside of his mind called forth a flood of images. Her bright blue eyes, the way her chocolate hair brushed the tips of her shoulders, the way her smile lit up the room. Other memories teased at his senses: the smell of lavender, the bell-like peal of her laughter, the taste of coffee in her kiss. _Tea. _

Awareness tingled over him. He remembered everything now—the snowstorm, being trapped inside the school, how the Spirit had emerged from the Ring. The Spirit. Ryou—that was hi name, he knew it now—looked around him. If he was here, in this prison of shadows, then the Spirit must have stolen his body. That meant that Tea, wherever she was, was in danger.

"I have to save her," he breathed. He clenched his fist and shook it at the sky. "I will," he vowed. "You won't stop me. Nothing will."

* * *

><p>All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Was it only her imagination, or were the shadows lengthening, darkening, filling the room? Tea couldn't help but tremble as she stared back into Bakura's eyes.<p>

_Run, _Ryou had told her. _Run far away and don't look back. _But she hadn't listened and now, here she was. _Alone with the psycho. _

Bakura ran a long white finger along the underside of her chin. "What's wrong, my sweet?"

"I'm not your _anything_," Tea gritted out.

Bakura look amused. "Oh, but you are." He brushed his thumb over her cheek. "You are _mine_. My captive. My toy. My slave. My whatever I wish. And I am your master."

Tea bristled. "Not on your life, buddy." With her free hand, she tried to brush away his hand from her face, he pinned her wrist to her side. Tea winced at his none-too-gentle grip.

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear." His eyes bore into hers. "_You are mine." _The intensity in his voice sent her pulse skittering. "Do you understand?"

"I understand that you are utterly vile and despicable," Tea spat with daring she hadn't know she possessed.

For a second, she thought Bakura might slap her. His hands tightened painfully on her wrists and she choked back a cry. But after a second, he relaxed and his grip eased. "You seem to have forgotten," he said, and his voice was the smooth, sardonic tone she had come to expect,"the power I possess." Releasing her wrists, he reached up and tapped the Millennium Ring on his chest.

"So what, if you don't obey you, you'll send me to the Shadow Realm?" Tea tried to make her voice sound careless, but inwardly she was far from nonchalant. Her memories of that place might be dim and vague, but the horror they had imprinted upon her consciousness was still vivid.

"I could," Bakura acknowledged, dipping his head. "Or, I could do this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Duel Monsters card. "Chain Energy." The Ring flashed green and gold, with an answering flash from the card. Suddenly, ropes of yellow-green energy materialized around Tea's upper arms and legs, pulling against the wall and pinning her there. The bonds were not painful, but they tingled uncomfortably where they pulsed against her skin. Tea tried to move, but the chains did not give, not the smallest fraction of an inch. Tea met Bakura's gaze, trying not to show how unsettled she was.

"Or, of course, I could do this." Bakura pulled another card from his pocket. "Venom Boa!"

Once more, the gleam of shadow magic emanated from the Ring and the card in his hand. This time, a purple-blue shape began to materialize. At first, Tea thought it was another kind of chain, though it appeared on the floor. Then the shape grew, lengthening and solidifying. Tea stifled a scream. It was a snake, an enormous three-eyed snake with vicious-looking fangs protruding from its snout. It let out a hiss as it wormed across the floor, heading directly for her! Tea bit her lip so hard she could taste blood. She could not move, could not even cover her face, as the huge serpent wound its way around her feet, then her ankles, working higher and higher. A shriek bubbled up inside her, but she clamped her lips even tighter, refusing to let it out. The snake was about her knees now, its massive face leering hideously at it with all three eyes. Its coils constricted and her legs felt like they were being liquefied. The scream burst from her lips, unable to be contained a second longer. "Bakura!" she sobbed. "Please!"

With a smirk, Bakura waved his hand. Another flash of shadow magic and the serpent was gone and so were her bonds. Tea fell to the ground, gasping and sobbing. Dimly, she thought of standing, but her limbs rebelled at the idea and she quickly gave it up.

Bakura walked over to where she lay. He folded his arms across his chest. "Have you learned your lesson now?" he demanded. "Do you comprehend now who I am and what I am capable of?"

Tea nodded dumbly. She no longer had the strength for resistance. Not now, when every bone in her body was jiggling like Jello.

Bakura wasn't finished. "You would do well to remember it." He bent and lifted her head. "I have plans for you, my dear. I would hate to have to destroy you in a moment of rage." He released her and she crumbled back to the ground. "Now, get up."

Tea had her doubts about the possibility of obeying, but she knew she dared not refuse. Somehow, she found the strength to clamber to her feet. Once she did, a sense of solidity flowed back into them. She still felt a little unsteady on her feet, but she wouldn't topple over. She didn't think.

Bakura gave her a perfunctory nod. "Good."

She drew a deep, shuddering breath in. "What do you want with me?" she asked. She hated the squeak in her voice, but she couldn't stop it. "I won't help you get to Yugi—"

Bakura waved a pale hand. "For once, your precious Pharaoh is of little interest to me."

"Then what are you interested in?" she asked.

Amusement gleamed in his eyes. He smiled, baring his teeth. "You."


	25. Chapter 25

A silent gasp parted Tea's lips. Had he just said what she thought he had? But there was no mistaking the lust in his eyes, or the predatory gleam of his smile. Her eyes widened and she stumbled backwards. The wall pressed behind her, trapping her. Her eyes darted to the door, but it was closed and Bakura was between her and it.

He stepped toward her, closing the space between them. "Come now," he cajoled. "You're not going to make me angry _again_, are you?"

Tea closed her eyes. She could still feel the leathery coils of the snake wrapped around her, pulling tight… Bakura was a cruel man. Who was to say what he was capable of when pushed?

She opened her eyes. Smiling, Bakura caressed her cheek. "I knew you would be a good girl," he said. "You always are, aren't you?"

Tea scowled, but Bakura was unperturbed. He leaned in and captured her lips, lightly tasting her. Tea stiffened. Bakura drew back, laughing. "What's wrong, my sweet? You liked my kisses well enough before." He pulled a strand of her hair out from her ear and played with it, rubbing his fingers over it. "It's a powerful thing isn't it?" he mused. "Control."

"What?"

He let the strand of hair fall from his fingers. "Before, when I was tied up, you thought you were in control. It emboldened you, intoxicated you. You did things you'd never have even considered in other circumstances." His eyes flickered. "And you enjoyed them." Tea looked away. "But now the tables have turned and I'm the one with the control." He reached for her again and pressed another kiss to her lips. "The same touch," he whispered against her skin as he pulled away. "The same act. But without the control, everything is different."

His eyes met hers. "Power," he said. "Once you've had a taste, it changes everything." He smiled. "Really, we're not so different, you and I."

"We're nothing alike," Tea said flatly. "Everyone wants control over their life. That's not some kind of deep revelation." She crossed her arms. "It's all about what you do with the power you have. That's what separates people like you from people like me."

Bakura chuckled. "People like you?" he echoed mockingly. "You white-frocked goody-two-shoes beaming rays of self-righteousness?" He shook his head. "The only difference between people like you and people like me is that I have power and you do not. Weak and strong, not right and wrong." He leaned in so close that the scent of his skin filled Tea's lungs. "Allow me to demonstrate."

"No!" The word squeaked out. Bakura frowned, drawing back only fractionally. "I mean," Tea tried again in a more normal sounding voice, "this is exactly an example of why your theory doesn't work."

Bakura cocked an eyebrow. "Care to explain?"

Tea took a deep breath. "If our positions were reversed—"

"We can try that later," Bakura said with a lascivious grin.

Tea ignored him. "If our positions were reversed," she repeated, "I would never do to you what you are doing to me."

Bakura considered this. "Not the exact same thing, no," he allowed, "but you would seek your pleasure, however you found it. Mine happens to be found in you." He started to lean in again.

"No," protested Tea again. "Sure, I might do whatever I wanted, but not if it _hurt _people. I would never use power to manipulate others or to force them into things against their will."

"Really? And what about your friend Yugi?"

Tea froze. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do. You smile at him, you flirt with him, you use your beauty and your feminine charms. He succumbs, and he is yours. But do you really want him? You don't know. There are others—the Pharaoh inside of him, for one—so you string him along, while promising him nothing, while casting your lures at others. You keep them all dangling on a string—Yugi, the Pharaoh, my poor little vessel, others too, perhaps—all waiting for you to make your choice. Isn't that _manipulation?_" He smirked. "And what will happen when you make your choice and discard the others like last year's fashions? Don't you think they'll be _hurt?_ Don't you think little Ryou's heart isn't broken every time he sees you making eyes at the Pharaoh?"

"I care about Ryou," Tea protested feebly.

"And you care about Yugi, and the Pharaoh too. Don't you?" His words dripped mockery. "You care about them so much that you'll twist and bruise their pathetic hearts just so you can feel like you matter in this world."

Tea shuddered. His words pierced her like daggers. Hadn't Ryou said much the same thing to her last night? She could still remember the look in his eyes as he'd flung those words at her. "_You've got enough boy trouble with one possessed teenager. Two would just be nuts." _Bakura was right. She had hurt him. Yet he still kept coming back to her. Was that because he cared about her? Or because she was manipulating him, just like Bakura claimed.

Watching the emotions play over her face, Bakura chuckled. "Don't feel so bad," he murmured as he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him. "It's only what anyone else would have done if they could. It's like I told you; there are no good people, only weak people."

"You're wrong," she said. She tried to pull away, but his strong arms held her fast.

"Oh, it's not merely my opinion. It's scientific fact. They've done studies on it. Frankly, I'm surprised a little bookworm like you hasn't heard about them. What kind of school is this?"

"What kind of studies?" Tea questioned.

"Ever hear of the Stanford Prison Experiment?" Bakura smiled. "Take twenty-four of your 'nice, normal people' and divide them into prisoner and prison guard and watch the abuses begin. It's a pity the guards weren't permitted to use physical violence. Not that it stopped them from attacking the prisoners with fire extinguishers—or from being quite creative with psychological violence, for a bunch of beginners. Men after my own heart, really."

"One study doesn't prove anything," Tea protested, but she shuddered. She _had _read about the Stanford experiment and she knew that Bakura wasn't embroidering any of the facts.

Bakura's lips brushed over her jaw. "Want to make a 'person like me'? Give him power and no one to stop him."

"Is that all there is to your story?" Tea asked. "Someone gave you power and no one stood in your way?"

Bakura scowled. "No one gave me my power," he said. "I took it. That's what strong people do. They make themselves into the people they want to be."

Tea looked up at him. "Then is this really who you wanted to be?"

His eyes drifted over her and his fingers tightened on her waist. "Right now, I'm exactly who I want to be," he said, and a sardonic grin twisted his mouth. "Your master."

Tea's jaw tightened. "You keep calling yourself that, but it won't make it true." She jerked away from him.

A storm cloud descended over his features. Before Tea had a chance to react, Bakura slammed her against the wall, pinning her with his weight. "How quickly we forget." His icy fingers gripped her chin. "You are mine." His mouth descended on hers in a hard, searing, possessive kiss. He lifted his head. "Mine to do with as I please."

"Never," Tea whispered, though her whole body trembled beneath his.

Dark fury settled over his features, rendering his visage demonic. "We'll see about that."

* * *

><p>Far above the welling blackness, the gunmetal sky shimmered and Ryou knew there was light behind it. The light of reality, the world beyond this dark cocoon, the world that he had to return to. The light, however dim and distant it was, gave him hope. It was possible to break through. It had to be.<p>

The sea of shadows around him tossed, purpura frothing at the tips of its waves. He stretched his arms towards the sky. There were no magic passwords, no spells, no secret doors, none that Ryou knew of, anyway. There was no key to turn, no lock to pick. There was just will, pure, unadulterated will. And his had never been strong.

He lifted his face and a wordless cry burst from the depths of his being. The shadows shuddered and the sky shook, growing more translucent, like a widow's thick veil. Ryou could almost peer through it the outside world. Almost. For now, all he could see was lighter shades of grey. Endless, endless grey.

He dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand and sucked in a gasp. Neither nails nor palm were truly corporeal, but the illusion of pain was still bracing. He clung to it, letting it feed his determination. He had to be stronger if he was going to force his way out of this holding cell. For Tea's sake, he would have to make himself stronger.


	26. Chapter 26

The cold from the wall tingled through Tea's back, spreading through her body. Far worse, however, was the cold in the pit of her stomach, the icy fear clenching tight as she stared into Bakura's eyes. They were dark, filled with animalistic lust. But that was not what disturbed Tea most. It was the all-too-human cruelty in their depths, the sadism restrained by steely will, that set her limbs to trembling.

He bared his teeth in what might have been a smile, but there was not the slightest hint of merriment in it, only menace. Tea closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. This was all just a bad dream, she told herself. Any moment now, she would wake up and find she was safe in her own bed, with an ordinary Saturday morning dawning above her.

"Open your eyes." The savage growl reverberated through the core of her being. When Tea didn't immediately comply, a sharp pain ripped down her arm. Tea's eyes snapped open. Silver glinted from Bakura's fingertips—or rather talons. "Vicious Claws," he told her, as if reading her thoughts. The card dangling from his other hand still faintly glowed the deep purple of shadow magic.

Tea glanced down at her throbbing arm. An angry red line ran down it, drops of blood welling at its heart. She turned stricken eyes to Bakura. "I'm bleeding," she gasped. Somehow, she hadn't quite believed that Bakura would really harm her.

But a cruel smile curved his lips. "I know," he murmured. "Isn't it beautiful?" He dipped his head and lapped at the blood. Tea tried to pull her arm away, but Bakura grabbed it—with his clawed hand. Tea screamed as the metal talons dug into her forearm. Bakura ignored her cries, jerking her arm above her head. He pressed into her as he ran his tongue along the long, thin wound. Tea could scarcely breathe, Bakura's chest hard and unforgiving against her breasts. Although she longed to escape into the recesses of her mind, she didn't dare close her eyes again. Instead, she stared over his shoulder at a fixed point on the opposite wall, trying to ignore the crushing weight of his body, the sharp pain shuddering through her arm, and the wet warmth of Bakura's teasing tongue on her flesh.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but they leaked from the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. They dribbled down her chin and splashed on Bakura's broad shoulders. He didn't seem to notice. He was intent on her arm, licking up her blood, savoring her pain.

At last, he drew back, wiping his mouth with evident satisfaction. "Have you learned your lesson now?" he asked, looking at her face. He frowned to see the tear-trails still damp on her cheeks. "What, crying?" He roughly wiped away the evidence with his thumb. "I hadn't expected that from _you._"

Tea didn't respond. She felt numb, a fly caught in a web of pain. Anything she said or did would only enmesh her further. Perhaps if she did nothing at all, the spider would lose interest in her.

But, as it turned out, it only made the spider angrier.

Bakura raised his right hand—his clawed hand—to her face. The cold metal whispered against her skin. Tea flinched and tried to pull away, but he pressed the claws closer. Pinpricks of pain told her that he had broken skin, if only barely. A vision swept through her mind of what he could do with just a swipe of his wrist. Deep shudders racked her at the picture of her mutilated face.

"_Don't."_ Bakura grabbed her chin with his free hand. His eyes bore into hers, dark brown as hard as steel. With effort, Tea forced herself to go still. Inside, though, she was still shaking. Was this what he had planned the whole time? She knew he was attracted to her, but how sick were his tastes?

"Better," Bakura commented. He raked the tips of the claws across her cheek. His touch was too light to even scrape her skin, but still Tea flinched as terror clenched in her gut. Bakura scowled. "If you keep doing that, you _will_ get hurt."

"Like you care," Tea shot back. But she stilled herself nevertheless.

Bakura lowered his clawed hand to her shoulder. The sharp tips still pricked at at her flesh through her thin undershirt, but the blind panic receded. She hauled in a shaky breath. Bakura tipped up her chin with his long fingers. "I _don't_ want to disfigure you," he said curtly.

"Well, isn't that a relief. You'll kidnap, threaten, cut, and rape me, but I'm safe from disfigurement! What do you want, an award? Sorry, I'm all out of cookies."

Bakura laughed. "Now this is what I like about you, Gardner. Suits you much better than tears." His fingers loosened their grip on her chin and trailed along the underside of her jaw. He leaned in close and his eyes twinkled. "But, you know, I haven't said anything about rape." He chuckled. "Guess we know what's on your mind." He smirked. "Don't worry, my sweet. When I take you, you will be more than willing."

Tea closed her eyes. "I will never be willing." She opened them and looked him straight in the eyes. "Not for you."

Bakura smiled, obviously not bothered in the least by her protestations. "Never say never, my dear." His fingers found the hollow beneath her earlobe. "In the end, you will beg for me."

Tea shook her head. "No," she said simply.

"Enough." The word was more of growl. Bakura brushed his lips over the curve of her cheek. "As scintillating as your wit is when you chose to exercise it, I tire of trading words."

Any quip Tea had started to form died as his eyes met hers. The expression in them was pure desire: raw, primal, possessive. She trembled all over and she was shocked to realize that fear was not the reason why. Oh, there was fear, but it was only the edge on the thrill, the crest on the wave. The wave itself was something quite different, something new and yet completely familiar. She swallowed hard as Bakura cupped the back the of her head and brought their faces together. "I told you that you would beg," he murmured just before claiming her lips.

The wave crashed and she was swept out to sea. Her surrender was not total; even as her resistance crumbled under the onslaught, some part of it hardened, became a kernel of pure defiance, but it was a kernel adrift in the ocean. The rest of her was lost. The waves had not claimed her—she was the waves, rising and crashing, tossing, churning, wild and aimless, yet driven by a relentless rhythm.

It felt like an eternity before Bakura lifted his lips from hers. The sea gentled, but the cadence of the tides still thrummed in her blood. Tea stared up at him, dazed. Bakura grinned and the keep pain of metal tearing into flesh brought her back to her senses. Tears sprung to her eyes and she looked down to see his clawed hand digging into her shoulder. Bakura wiped them away with his thumb. "None of that," he said brusquely.

"You're _hurting_ me," Tea gritted out. She tried to pull away, but his body kept her pinned against the wall.

"The pain helps heighten the pleasure," Bakura explained. His mouth twisted. "For me."

His unclawed hand slipped from her face down the long column of her neck, fingertips silky against the sensitive skin. As seductive as the sensations were, however, there was always the stinging counterpart in her shoulder to ground her firmly in reality. Tea grimaced. She was almost grateful for the pain. She didn't want to lose herself to Bakura. Not again. If he wanted her, he was going to have to take her fighting.

But as he stroked her skin, touching and tasting and taking his everlasting sweet time, she could feel the hairline fractures running through her strength of will. For the moment, she could keep it together, present a strong, solid front. It might even fool him for a little while. But not long—he was much too perceptive for that. Then he would see the cobweb of tiny cracks and he would put his finger to the very heart of it and deliver that blow. It would not even have to be a hard blow, just precise. It could be as simple as a touch, as soft as a whisper. Just the slightest push.

And she would shatter.

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><p>AN: Kind of a short chapter today, but I had a supermassivenova chapter and I've had to chunk it up as best I can. Next chapter, we catch up with Ryou, and then, um, the rating is probably going up, so last chance to weigh in on that, if you want to. Shout out to all my amazing reviewers! You guys keep me going!


	27. Chapter 27

Ryou hurled his will against the steel-grey sky and felt bone-chilling cold reverberate through his being. He had expected the sky to be like a canopy, a cloth stretched taut, repelling him, but possible to break through. Instead, it was like plunging into a pool of ice water. No matter how he groped, there was nothing solid, nothing for the fingers of his mind to grasp. Blackness rushed over him, numbness seeping through his consciousness. He could feel his hard-won clarity slipping away.

He struggled, clawing desperately at the aching emptiness, trying to break free, trying to cling to something real. But it was too difficult. He'd never escape. Why was he even trying? The question echoed in his mind and he couldn't think of the answer, and then he couldn't think at all. His eyelids drooped and his limbs felt heavy. He was plummeting, falling like a star from the sky to the billowing shadows below. They caught him, swaddled him in their soft embrace. He was safe now. He was home.

He was… His eyes closed and all thought drifted away into the black.

No! A lightning bolt of clarity crackled through the dark fog. His eyes snapped open, and he struggled to his feet.

_Why are you fighting?_ a voice whispered through the shadows. He knew that voice; it was as familiar to him as his own skin.

Ryou stopped in his tracks. Why was he fighting? He blinked, then shook his head. He had to get out of here. He _knew_ that.

_Yes, but __**why?**_ The voice, that maddeningly familiar voice, persisted.

Why? Ryou turned the question over in his mind. The word rolled on the waves, it snaked through the sky, it quivered in the air. And that itself was the answer, wasn't it. Because it was all his mind. Because none of it was real.

_But all you need is right here. _

No. Ryou knew that was wrong. There was a world out there, a real, solid, world with light and colors, and he needed to be a part of it. And there was something else, too. Something important. Something at the tip of his tongue, at the back of his mind, always a breath away but never within his grasp. He knew if only he could break out of this place he would find it. It would be as bright and clear as the noonday sun.

_But you're safe here._ There was a note of desperation in the voice. _No one can hurt you. No one can belittle you. _

Of course they couldn't. Because there was no one here. He was a solitary soul wandering in an empty vat of churning loneliness. But there were people out there in the real world. There were people he cared about, people who cared about him. Friends.

_Fair-weather friends. _The voice was fading as Ryou's purpose grew. _They don't really care about you. They'll leave you lonely in the end._

Ryou gritted his teeth. They wouldn't.

But the voice had found a weak spot and it knew it. It pressed its advantage. _Do you really want to go through that? To leave yourself open, to make yourself vulnerable, only to go through all that pain and loneliness? _

Ryou tried not to listen, but the voice was inside his head, touching all of his insecurities. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Cutting himself off from the real world wouldn't protect him from loneliness. He was lonely now.

_Alone isn't the same thing as loneliness. _

But sometimes it was.

_Seclusion isn't the same thing as rejection. _

Ryou winced as the dart hit its mark. But he had to go. He was needed. He couldn't remember why, but he felt the urgency pressing on his chest, filling his lungs. They needed him.

_No one needs you. _

Help. He had to help. It was important—so important. If he could only think, he would remember. If he could only escape, he could think. If he could only remember, he could escape.

_You can't help anyone. _There was no spite in the voice, just sad resignation. _Don't you remember who you are?_

A haze grew at the back of his eyes. He tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go.

_You're cursed. _

Memories spiraled through him, but they weren't the memories he had reached for. They were the other memories, the ones he tried to keep locked deep inside.

The room is buzzing with laughter, with life, with a thousand everyday conversations. Then he walks through the door and it goes quiet. Silent as the grave. The room is full of eyes and they are all on him. Is it pity? It is curiosity?

All those cars…slowed down…drivers twisting to see out their mirrors… Is it pity? Is it curiosity? Is it some kind of sickness, a human sickness that coils through our blood?

So much blood.

White hair on black pavement.

Her eyes used to dance when she smiled. She was always smiling.

His mother, pale blond hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, brown eyes creased with worry, reaching for his hand. He grabs it, and cold air slides through his fingers.

Stale whiskey hits him like a backhand from a prizefighter.

"I'll always take care of you, Amane."

A smile like a slice of melon.

The jangle of car keys and his guts twist so hard he can hear the squelch.

"Don't go."

"Just a quick trip."

Their feet slap the pavement, their arms full of groceries.

He could almost smell the bread as he opens the door.

The screech of tires.

A strangled gasp.

The sickening crunch.

And the world goes black.

Black pavement.

White hair.

Red blood.

"Just a quick trip."

Heaving sobs and breath soaked with whiskey.

He reaches for her hand.

"I'll keep you safe."

His face is wet. His hand is wet.

Why are his tears so red?

The silence is so thick you could build a wall out of it. And they do, everyday.

They fortify the wall with secrets, and it becomes a fortress.

They put out a mat and they call it surviving.

Another new school, another new bruise, another brick in the wall.

"I'm going to be away for a while."

It's for the best. For both of them.

He'd rather be alone.

They paint the fortress with lies.

"Here. It's for you."

The rustle of paper and the gleam of gold.

Cool metal on his fingertips and a thrill of danger across his spine.

_Death is a chasm, but not an uncrossable one._

He wants to believe so badly.

_Power comes at a price. _

A bright smile and dancing eyes.

What price could be too high?

Pain was nothing new; they'd always had a nodding acquaintance.

Now it was his constant companion.

The fortress was a little less empty now.

Darkness, grabbing him unawares. The hours don't add up. The days don't stay the same.

The stain on his carpet won't go away.

The folder slaps across the desk and the papers rustle. "It seems you have something of a history."

He scrubs his hands, but his fingernails are still tinged with rust. Or mud. It must be mud.

"No one's seen Vice-Principal Stanford for days."

Fear and guilt move into the fortress. They won't speak to him, but they follow him around, like ghosts. But pain is there to comfort him. Pain pulls him close in a tight embrace.

"I want out of this deal."

You don't make the rules, landlord.

Fingers tighten on a leather strap. "Then I'll evict you."

Laughter, cruel laughter, and then nothing.

"You're Ryou, aren't you?"

Smiles are too precious not to be treasured.

"You like that game too?"

The door opens. Sunlight enters when they do. It feels like a prison is crumbling.

The room is cold and his hand is closed around a playing piece. He stares at it and it smiles.

The only thing he knows for sure is the pen in his hand and the ink on the paper.

Dear Amane…

"I had a sister, once…"

Blue eyes blink back tears.

A hand touches his shoulder.

Warm skin and wet tears.

This is solid. This is real. This won't fade away when he closes his eyes.

The world is made of shades of blue.

The inky tides lapped at his feet, but they could not steal the blue away from his eyes. He saw it everywhere now, the brilliant azure of her eyes.

Tea.

How could he have forgotten her, even for an instant?

New memories washed over him. A wave in a crowded cafeteria, a kind word, a smile from rose-petal lips. Chocolate-brown hair twisted around a slim finger, feet tapping a private rhythm in the middle of class, pink-clad shoulders that hunched too close to the desk when she wrote.

A friendly pat on his shoulder. Her hands on his waist, guiding him through the steps of a dance. Blue eyes rolling at his excuses, smile flashing at his mistakes. Slender fingers on his arm, his face. A smile that lingers just a little too long. A kiss as warm and soft as a summer afternoon.

_Tea._

He smiled, and the waves stopped churning for just an instant.

_She doesn't love you. _The voice was back, it's so-familiar tones quiet, but strained.

She'd never claimed to love him. But she had promised that she cared about him.

_And that's enough?_ The voice was incredulous.

Maybe it was. Maybe when you were crazy in love with someone, it didn't matter if they never felt the same way. Maybe knowing that they cared about you, that they wanted to be with you, was enough. Or maybe he was just a hopeless dreamer.

_Hopeless is definitely right. _

Then again, he'd never had much to hope for. Not since Amane died. But when he thought of Tea, as out of reach as she she was, he felt in stirring in his chest, bright and powerful, and all the things he'd forgotten life could be.

Hope.

He stepped forward and almost didn't realize that the sky was the pale grey of a winter morning, that the dark waves had receded and sepia shores crunched under his feet.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: Okay, after a long hiatus of writing original fiction for Camp NaNoWriMo, I return, bearing citrus content. It's more lime than lemon, but I upped the rating to M. If you don't think it needs it, let me know.

* * *

><p>Bakura's hands were cold, but his icy touch trailed fire down her body. Despite herself, Tea couldn't help but gasp and moan under his ministrations. His fingers were everywhere, feather-light, never lingering for a moment on her all-too sensitive skin. Jaw, wrist, earlobe, temple, palm, throat… there was not an inch of exposed skin that did not receive his chilly caress.<p>

And then, at last, he reached for that which was not exposed.

Deliberately, he raised his hands to the neck of the shirt and hooked his fingers inside. Téa shivered uncontrollably at the touch of his icy fingers against her warm skin. His smile widened as he caressed the very tops of her breasts, then withdrew his fingers. His hands slid slowly down her chest, only the flimsy barrier of the cotton shirt between his flesh and hers. Téa bit her lip to keep from crying out.

His hands stilled in their descent, fingers curling to cup the fullness of her breasts. His thumbs shifted over the thin material, finding the edge of her bra beneath her shirt. Heat quivered in her belly and her lips parted involuntarily. He leaned in and brushed his mouth against hers, but it wasn't a real kiss, just a reminder of his mastery. Her cheeks burned and a small corner of her mind wondered if she could still struggle, still break free. But the answer was no, the greater part of her mind reminded her. She had nowhere to go and no one to hear her. She could feel the strength in his deceptively wiry form. He would hurt her if she struggled. The delicate tremors pain that radiated from her shoulder were promise enough of that.

Bakura lifted his lips from hers, but did not pull his face away. His tongue snaked out and licked her lips. Téa shuddered, but dared not pull away. "Mine," he whispered, his dark eyes glittering with satisfaction.

His hands roamed lower, now skimming her sides, now slipping beneath her shirt to stroke her bare stomach. Téa writhed under his touch, her mind hissing at her to pull away, while her body was screaming for more. A low moan threatened to burst from her lips, but she bit it back with effort.

He stilled his hands and frowned at her. "You don't have to hold back," he whispered in her ear. His hot breath tickled her skin and his thick white hair brushed her cheek. "You can tell me just how much you like it."

Téa bit down on the inside of her lip so hard that she faintly tasted blood. Her hands clenched at her sides. She might not be able to escape his sick little game, but she wasn't going to play it with him.

One hand lifted from her stomach to caress her cheek. "Go on," he encouraged her. When she remained stock still and silent, his frown darkened. "Do no test me," he warned her. "I am master here." His hand stroked her hair. "You are mine, and you would do well to remember it. But I will remind you."

With frightening speed, he pulled her thin white shirt over her shoulders, leaving only her lacy bra between her bare flesh and his hungry eyes. He took only a moment to drink in the sight before running his hand under the strap of her bra and cupping her breast. Téa shuddered. The feel of his icy skin against her soft, sensitive flesh was unlike anything she had imagined—and though she knew she should find it utterly repulsive, desire pooled within her instead.

His fingers traced eccentric circles on her skin, sending ripples of pure fire burning through her. Téa felt her whole body softening, melting under the heat of the blaze he was kindling. She gritted her teeth and willed her legs to stand fast and her shoulders to stiffen. She would not lean into his touch , or collapse into his arms, or any of the other things her treacherous body was threatening to do. Above all, she would not moan for him.

His fingers found her nipple and she was almost undone. A cry of pure pleasure vibrated in her throat, aching for release, but she choked it back, barely. He smirked, and ran his fingers over the nub again and again, until Téa could not restrain the spasms of pleasure that rocked her body against his. Still, she managed to keep her lips sealed. She would not give him that. She would not let him take it from her.

His free hand went to her other breast, and now Téa faced a double assault. Her breasts ached with fierce pleasure; her blood seethed with desire. It pounded through every vein, trickled through every pore, and fogged her brain, clouding out every thought except the one she was clinging to with all of her strength.

_Do not make a sound. Do not give him that. _

She closed her eyes, shutting out everything but the cold, silky touch and the scorching flame that followed it. The ice and fire trailed over her breasts, caressing every inch. Now it trailed around to her back, now scrabbling at something, though she couldn't think of what. A sudden chill made her eyes flash open again. She looked down, startled, to see his long, pale hands stripping away the last barrier between him and her breasts. He pulled his hands away as the lacy bra fell to the floor. His dark eyes feasted on the sight. She trembled under his scrutiny, and her cheeks blazed hot with shame—shame to be seen by him like this, and shame because all of her was longing for him to touch her again.

But he did not. His hands remained at his sides. He simply stared at her, his head leaning closer, and closer, until she could feel the touch of his breath. Then, without warning, his mouth closed around her nipple and his tongue ran over the sensitive bud.

Every nerve in Téa's body screamed out its pleasure, and this time even her strongest resolve could not save her. Her mouth parted entirely involuntarily and a low, desperate whimper escaped.

Téa gasped, horrified at herself. But Bakura gave her no time to recover. He immediately ran his tongue over her nipple again, eliciting another moan, and then another. He broke from her breast and leaned against her neck, forcing her bare, all-too-sensitive breasts against the rough fabric of his jacket. "There, was that so hard?" he murmured silkily. "I _told _you that you were mine."

"I'm not!" Téa protested hotly, although her voice sounded weak, even to her.

He chuckled, a dark, slippery sound that sent shivers down her spine. "I beg to differ." He bent once more to her breast. This time, as his mouth enclosed on it, he did not merely lick her nipple. He sucked on it.

Téa's eyes went wide and she moaned desperately. He laughed against her delicate skin. "Shall I do it again?" he asked her wickedly.

"Yes," she breathed, before her mind could stop her. "Oh, yes."

"Then beg me," he said promptly. "Beg me to give you what you want."

Téa chewed her lip, twisting in an agony of indecision as her mind and her body battled. Bakura watched her with dark amusement. His icy fingers began playing, haphazardly, with her skin, preventing her from thinking rationally. When he brushed his thumb over her nipple, her entire body convulsed.

"_Please."_ The ragged word slipped out entirely on its own.

Bakura smirked. "Please what?"

"Please, Bakura, please… touch me."

"But I _am_ touching you." His fingers continued their idle exploration.

"No… with…your mouth," Téa said with difficulty. If her need had not been so great, she could never have forced the words out.

"Like this?" he questioned, bending his head and suckling deep from her breast. Téa moaned with pleasure. But Bakura was not finished toying with her. "Is that what you want?" he asked, lifting his head again.

"_Yes,"_ whispered Téa. "Yes, oh yes!"

"Are you sure?" His voice, dark, sardonic, yet so smooth, dripped over her, full of some private amusement.

"Yes, I'm sure. Please, do it again." When he did not immediately comply, her voice took on a desperate whine. "_Bakura."_

"I'm not sure I like that name from you," he said, smirking. "Call me 'Master.'"

She started to shake her head in protest, but he tweaked her erect nipples with his finger and thumbs. "Say it, or you will get no pleasure from me," he warned.

She gasped in mingled pleasure and pain. "M-master," she managed.

"Better." He dipped his head to reward her, this time attending to her other breast. "But I'm still not certain you know what you want. There are other places I could touch you." His voice vibrated huskily. "Better places." His hand dropped under her skirt. Before Téa knew quite what was happening, he was stroking her through her panties.

She gasped. "Bakura!" Instantly, his hand stilled. His other hand pinched her nipple, hard. She cried out in pain, and instantly realized her mistake. "Master!"

He kissed the hurt nipple, running his tongue over it to sooth it. Téa sucked in her breath hard. There was still a corner of her mind that could see what was happening and could not believe herself. How was she allowing this—no, far worse—_enjoying_ it?

"That's my good girl," he murmured in her ear as he slid his entire body against hers. "Say it again."

She hesitated, but only for the briefest second. "Master," she said slowly, turning her face towards him.

His lips claimed hers immediately, tasting and possessing with a greedy abandon. The rough fabric of his open jacket shifted against her delicate skin, all at once stimulating and irritating. Finally, when she could handle the sensation no longer, her hands shoved the fabric away, tearing the jacket off his shoulders.

Bakura stopped when he noticed what she was doing and helped her strip the jacket off his arms. "I'm sorry, my pet," he said. "I suppose I wasn't really being fair, was I?"

Téa blinked in confusion, but before she could even begin to wonder what he meant, he was pulling his own white undershirt over his head. Téa's mouth dried. His chest was bare except for the Millennium Ring, gleaming gold against his pale skin. His muscles were hard; his stomach taut. There was no overabundance of musculature, but every inch of him was lean and defined. All on their own, Téa's finger itched to stroke his chest, to find out for themselves just how firm those taut pectorals were. She restrained her fingers, but she could not restrain her eyes. They wandered over every inch of him, marveling at how she could have ever thought Bakura scrawny.

An amused sound drew her gaze back up to Bakura's face. Her face flamed at how obviously she'd been staring. "Do you like what you see?" he chuckled. She nodded, too embarrassed to speak. "Then touch me." He covered her hand with his and dragged it to his chest.

How was his skin so cool? Every inch of her own felt flushed and overheated. Worse, how was it so _smooth_? Her fingers glided over his pectorals like a figure skater over fresh ice. The few pale hairs that brushed against her fingertips just made the sensation more erotic.

Then she touched the Ring itself. Cold—not the marble-coolness of Bakura's skin, but real, warm-sucking cold—greeted her fingers as they grazed one of the round arrows that dangled from the central ring. There was something else to the feeling too—a sort of tingling. What was it? Magic? Power? Something more than mere metal. Whatever it was, it wasn't unpleasant at all… quite the contrary.

She slid to her knees—the painful touch at her shoulder mercifully disappearing—and brushed her lips over the arrow. The same tingle shuddered through her, only deeper, sweeter. Above her, Bakura let out a tiny sound suspiciously close to a groan. "Can you feel that?" Tea asked curiously. Without waiting for a response, she closed her lips around the arrow. A shudder went through Bakura's solid frame, but Tea barely noticed. She moved her mouth, savoring the feel of the cool gold, the delicious electricity it sent racing through her. She pressed her tongue to the golden tip.

A strangled groan erupted from over top of her. Immediately, Tea pulled away. "What is it?"

"Never mind!" Bakura snapped. "Just…do that again."

"Do what?" Tea asked.

Bakura's eyes were so dark they almost looked black. "You know what I'm talking about." His voice was harsh and strained.

Tea gently touched the dangling arrow, still slick with her saliva, wondering what he was so worked up about. Bakura growled. "Not with your hands!"

A sudden light dawned and her head popped up. She didn't even bother trying to hide the wide smirk spread across her face. "Beg me," she said.

"_What?"_

"I'm waiting," she murmured. She put her lips close to the arrow and blew lightly. He yelped.

"_Tea!" _he snarled, then sighed. "_Please,_ Tea." The words sounded like they had been ripped out of his throat.

Knowing better than to push her luck, Tea complied. The still-cool metal sent shivers of delight through her as she swirled her tongue across its surface. Guttural sounds of pleasure drifted down over her. She reached up, trying to better brace herself against him. But instead of skin or clothing, her hand found icy gold. Her fingers closed around another arrow and a gasp flew from Bakura's lips.

Magic thrummed through her fingertips, pleasure roiling even stronger in her veins. Was this what a Millennium Item made you feel like all the time? It was euphoric…and addicting. She had to have more. She tightened her grip on the arrow in her hands, even as she sucked greedily on the other. Deep moans filled the air, but it was as if the sounds came from a great distance. They echoed meaninglessly in her ears.

The only thing that mattered was this electricity shuddering through her, making every inch of her quiver with pleasure. The metal didn't feel cold to her anymore. It was warm—no, hot. Smoldering. But painlessly. The only pain was that there was not enough of it. The power could be stronger, greater. She _knew_ it. She could feel it deep inside her.

Dizzy with pleasure, desperate with yearning, she lifted her face , ignoring Bakura's distant protest. Driven by something more elemental than instinct, she pressed her face against the golden triangle at the Ring's center, her lips at the center of the eye. Magic blasted through her, a pleasure so powerful it was pain. For a moment, a glorious moment, every cell in her body was alive with it, ecstatic agony.

Then the shadows closed in around her.


	29. Chapter 29

Dim light filtered through the silvery sky, settling over the lilac haze that coated the ground. But just up ahead, there was a brighter patch, a space where the grey was little whiter and where the haze seemed to thin. If he strained, Ryou could just barely hear sounds coming through it, though muffled and distorted. It was towards this patch that Ryou walked now—not out of any conscious decision, but out of instinctive conviction. This would be his gateway back to reality. This would be the place where he would pierce the veil.

_What are you doing? _

The voice was back, although it spoke just above a whisper. Ryou ignored it.

_You're making a mistake. _

The patch of light was close, so close. Voices drifted through it, real voices, and he could almost swear that one of them was Tea's. His feet moved of their own volition.

_Stop!_

The voice was so plaintive, it slowed him for a second. But only a second. His mind was made up. Tea was out there and she needed him.

_She won't love you,_ the voice whispered. _She might need you, she might use you, but she won't ever love you. _

Lies. It was all lies and Ryou was through believing them, no matter how insistently they pounded through his head. He would leave them all behind, here, in this prison of shadows. He walked toward the light.

_She'll break your heart. _

He meant to keep walking, but his heart stopped for just a second and his feet followed. His gut clenched. He wanted to brush it off, walk away from it, just one more lie. But he couldn't ignore the seed of doubt deep inside. Maybe it was true. Maybe she _would_ break his heart.

But his heart was already broken. It had shattered the day that Amane died and its shards had been smashed, splintered, and stomped on countless times since. When he was with Tea, it felt like those jagged wounds were starting to heal. And maybe they would close only for Tea to rip them back open, but then he wouldn't be any worse off, would he?

He squared his shoulders and turned his face toward the light.

As he started to take those last few steps, a figure materialized. _Don't do this_, the voice pleaded. The figure solidified and Ryou could see his face. His own face. "_Don't go." _

Ryou stared back at his doppelganger. It was him. Not the Spirit who possessed him, but himself, Ryou. Same thin figure, wearing his favorite jeans and his old cream sweater. Same thick white hair falling over his shoulders. Same pale face and same brown eyes. Those eyes met his now. They were open and scared and pleading. "Don't go," he repeated, and Ryou wondered how he had ever failed to recognize that voice.

"But I have to go," Ryou told him. He tried to walk past, but his double grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Please." The simple word was laced with desperation. It was harder to ignore it now. It was hard to look into his own eyes and see the fear and the doubt that clutched at his heart written so plainly across his double's face. But he was done living in fear. Fear had let the Spirit control his life for so long now. Maybe if he left fear behind, he'd find the strength to take it back.

He pulled his double's hand off his shoulder, then patted him on the back. Awkward, Ryou decided belatedly. It was a good thing this wasn't the sort of situation which cropped up very often. "It's going to be okay," he told himself with a smile. "There's life out there and I'm going to live it."

He stepped into the light and everything glowed around him. He could feel the world going translucent, fading into nothing. Then there was a sickening lurch, like an elevator suddenly plunging down a shaft, and everything went black.

* * *

><p>The darkness shuddered around her. If there <em>was<em> a her. Maybe there was only the darkness, and the cold. The cold was definitely real. It bit into her with icy teeth, snatching huge mouthfuls of warmth. _Her _again. Maybe there was a her. _Someone's_ head ached. Pain. That was something else that existed. Darkness, cold, and pain, and something nebulous that might be her.

The darkness rippled and receded, a purple light shimmering around her. Purple shadows. There was something so familiar about them. She'd seen purple shadows like these before. She'd felt this before—this cold, numb pain that tingled through her. She just had to remember.

It was a little easier to think than before, but her thoughts still felt like Jello. As soon as she thought she had a hold on one, it oozed out of her grasp. Like her memories. She was positive she had been here before—if there really was a here to be at and a she to be. But she couldn't think of when or why. But she knew it was bad. Really, really bad. Not like a place of darkness, cold, and pain was going to turn out to be a magical funland of joy and happiness.

Magic. That sparked something inside her goopy brain. Magic had brought her here. She remember the feel of it crawling over her skin. She remembered the flash of light and the crash of darkness. She remembered the Ring humming beneath her touch.

The Ring.

Memories swirled over her with so much force she nearly forgot the dark and the cold and the pain. She blinked in the bright light of clarity before she readjusted to the darkness all around her. No, not just darkness. Shadows.

This was the Shadow Realm.

Tea bit down hard on her lip. She was fairly certain she didn't actually have a body here, but she still felt the pain. It was a good kind of pain—sharp and warm, with a hint of blood—not like the frozen ache that clamped to her limbs, that rattled in her chest with every not-real breath she drew. Or maybe it was real. She didn't know enough about this kind of thing to be sure. Still, that didn't explain why when she looked down at herself, she was wearing her favorite pale blue sundress. She was pretty positive that before she got here it had been winter and she'd ben wearing her school uniform. Or rather not wearing it. Most of it, anyway. She'd kept her skirt on. That counted for something, right?

Her cheeks burned as those particular memories rebounded over her. What the hell had she been doing? Right now, the Shadow Realm was making more sense than her actual life. That was fifteen kinds of screwed up.

_Shadow Realm, Tea, _she reminded herself. _You have bigger problems to deal with right now. _

Really? She knew the Shadow Realm was a dimension of soul-sucking evil, but did it really beat out the Spirit of the Ring playing out some kind of ultra-creepy seduction scenario. She wasn't sure she could even call it rape, since she'd gone along with it. She knew the words that had come out of her mouth. She'd asked him to… she didn't want to even think about it.

Was the Shadow Realm really a bigger problem than that?

_More pressing, then. __**And**_ _possibly worse. _She really didn't want to stick around to find out.

She let out a long breath and surveyed her surroundings. So, then. How did one go about getting out of the Shadow Realm? Did it always involve playing a card game? She sure hoped not. Her dueling skills had been enough to school Joey back before he trained with Mr. Muto, but that wasn't saying much. True, she'd managed to pull out a win against Mai in Duelist Kingdom, but the stakes had been a handful of starchips, not the fate of her immortal soul.

Still, if she was going to have to duel, she wished her opponent would appear.

No sooner had the thought entered her mind, then a pale figure started to emerge from the shadows. Tea caught her breath. What dread creature was this?

The shadows cleared around a skinny boy with a distinctive mop of white hair. He blinked at her in surprise. "Tea?"

"_Ryou?" _


	30. Chapter 30

Tea ran and threw her arms around him. She buried her face in his sweater. "Ryou!" she gasped. "I can't believe it! I'm so glad to see you."

Clumsily, Ryou stroked her hair. It was a bit awkward, but much less so than having to pat himself on the back. Much more pleasant as well.

Tea's breath was coming in long shudders now, and it didn't take Ryou long to realize she was on the verge of tears—or maybe hysterics. One hand sliding to her shoulder, he lifted her face. "Hey," he whispered. "It's okay."

Tea nodded uncertainly, but her chin quivered. Ryou squeezed her shoulder. "Have you been here long?" he asked. His mind was whirling. How had she gotten here? And where exactly was here? This wasn't the same place he had been before—the waves and shores replaced by a sort of canopy, like the inside of a marble.

Tea was shaking her head. "I don't think so," she said. "I was just starting to get my bearing when you came along." She looked up at him. "Have you been here long?" she asked. She bit her lip. "Is this where you've been the whole time? The Shadow Realm?"

The Shadow Realm. That made sense in the worst possible way. Ryou pushed away his fears for the moment and concentrated on her question. "Not exactly," he answered. "Where I was, it was like… a pocket dimension, if that makes any sense."

Tea smiled. "I think I've read enough science fiction to follow."

"Maybe it was part of the Shadow Realm, or maybe it was attached to the Millennium Ring, or maybe it was in my own mind the whole time." Ryou scratched his head.  
>"I'm not really sure," he admitted.<p>

Tea shrugged. "More information than I've got." She straightened and looked around. "So, any chance you know how to get out of here?"

"'Fraid not." Ryou sighed. "I thought I was just about to get out of that other place. But then I came here instead." He glanced at her. "How did you get here?" he asked. "The Spirit of the Ring, he didn't…?"

"Don't blame me for this mess," an all-too familiar voice called from the shadows. Both Tea and Ryou whipped around to see the Spirit emerging from the darkness. He pointed a finger at Tea. "This is all her fault."

Ryou stared at the Spirit, unable to even formulate a coherent thought. Tea was staring at him, too, but her gaze was more contemplative. "So, these can't be our real bodies," she murmured, as if to herself. "Otherwise, the two of you could never be here at the same time."

Ryou glanced at her, then down at at himself. He was startled to realize that not only was Tea not wearing her school uniform, but a light blue dress he'd never seen on her before, but he was wearing the same sweater and jeans he'd seen on his doppelganger. The Spirit, on the other hand, wore a black trenchcoat over a grey shirt and black leather pants. It was odd to see him as a separate person, not staring back from the mirror. Ryou studied him. They were definitely similar, but after seeing his doppelganger, it was easier to notice the differences—the way his hair swooped out like batwings, the aggressive stance, the narrow slant of his eyes. Also, to Ryou, he seemed taller and more muscular. He wondered if this was how everyone saw him when the Spirit possessed his body, or if the physical differences could be attributed to the Shadow Realm.

"Very perceptive." The Spirit folded his arms across his chest, his expression anything but pleased. "We are in the Shadow Realm. What we do here does not affect our bodies—_usually_," he amended, "but our souls." He glared at her. "Any particular _reason_ why you dragged us all to this hellhole?"

"Me?" choked Tea. "Why do you think I had anything to do with it? How could I have? I'm not the one with crazy ancient magic!"

The Spirit's eyes narrowed to slits. "You might not possess a Millennium Item, but you didn't seem to have a problem activating mine."

Ryou glanced curiously between them. What was the Spirit talking about? And why were Tea's cheeks getting red?

Tea chewed her lip. "I remember the Ring doing something when I touched it," she said thoughtfully.

"_Touched_ it?" the Spirit spluttered.

Tea's color heightened, but she ignored him. "But why would it take us to the Shadow Realm? And why didn't it do anything when I had it earlier?"

Ryou interjected himself into the conversation. "How could Tea do anything with the Ring, anyway?" The Ring barely responded to him. It knew who its master was. Ryou didn't believe for a second that Tea could have wrested control of it away from the Spirit. If they were here, it was because the Spirit wanted them to be. He took a step toward Tea. As long as they were here, especially here with _him_, they were in grave danger. They had to get away. He tried to catch Tea's eye, but she was looking down at her feet.

"I don't know how she did it, but she did," snarled the Spirit. "And she can just go ahead and undo it before our spirits get devoured."

Tea looked up at that and glared at him. "Don't you think I would if I could?" she snapped. "How do you suggest I go about it?"

The Spirit's hand flew into the air. "Don't get uppity with me, girl!"

"And don't you dare threaten me!" If looks could kill, Tea's would have rendered the Spirit of the Ring a small pile of ash. "Not when you're in the same boat as the rest of us."

The Spirit crossed his arms over his chest, looking rather smug. "That's where you're wrong. I am a creature of the darkness. My presence here is more of an inconvenience than an actual danger."

"Well, aren't you special?" Tea rolled her eyes. "Now, maybe if you'd like to tell us how to get out of here, we can stop inconveniencing you."

Ryou had to admit he was taken aback by Tea's cavalier attitude toward the Spirit. Didn't she understand how dangerous he was? He'd been possessing Ryou for years, leeching on his soul, and yet Ryou still felt there were vast depths of darkness that he had yet to plumb. Then again, how could she understand? She didn't have to live with such a being inside of her, his sadism constantly brushing against the edges of Ryou's mind. She was never in any danger that her personality would be subsumed by the darkness, crumbled away under the relentless tide of hate and cruelty. She didn't know what he was like because she didn't _have_ to know. Ryou could never, ever allow himself to forget.

The Spirit frowned. "That would be a simpler problem to solve if I knew how the girl had brought us here in the first place." Although he spoke aloud, he didn't seem to be directing his words to either Tea or Ryou. His scowl deepened. "But there are many points of contact between this dimension and the one in which our bodies are now. One of these should allow us to depart." He smirked. "And fortunately for the two of you, I happen to know my way around here better than anyone else walking the earth right now."

Ryou shot a glance at Tea, this time meeting her gaze. He didn't dare put his thoughts into words, but he tried to communicate them as much as he could with his eyes. _Should we trust him? Should we follow him?_

She gave a tiny shrug. _What choice do we have?_ her look said. _This is the best shot we've got. _

Ryou nodded and squared his shoulders. He was not about to trust the Spirit of the Ring in any way, shape, or form, but right now he was looking like their best way out of here. He bit back a sigh. "Lead the way, then," he said brusquely.

The Spirit turned on him then. "Was that an order, I heard?" He smirked. "Well, if the little host isn't playing general," he said. "Of course, you're not really my host here, are you?" He arched an eyebrow. "In fact, there's nothing to stop me from _hurting_ you if I wish." His hand shot out with terrifying speed and grabbed Ryou's wrist. "After all," he said thoughtfully, "it won't do any damage to my body."

Ryou struggled, but the grip on his wrist was iron-hard. He fought his rising panic. "We're still linked," he gritted out. It was true; although the sensation was not as strong as it usually was. "You'll feel it too."

"That's true, I will." The Spirit didn't seem at all disturbed by the idea. In fact, he almost seemed to be relishing it. "A little pain never hurt anyone." He grinned. "Well, you know what I mean." He twisted and a jolt of sharp pain shot through Ryou's wrist. He cried out, even as he realized that the Spirit hadn't twisted hard enough to break it—yet. There would be worse pain to come.

"Stop it!" Tea threw herself at the Spirit, clawing at his face with her nails. Ryou winced as burning pain slashed down the side of his a snarl, the Spirit dropped Ryou's wrist and lunged for Tea's. In a matter of seconds, he had both her arms twisted behind her. Blood was welling up from a long scrape by the side of his left eye. _Furious_ did not even begin to describe his expression.

"What's the matter?" Tea taunted him. "A little pain never hurt anyone." Ryou was torn between breathless admiration for her daring and breathless horror at her foolhardiness.

Rage pulsed across the Spirit's face, but he said nothing. As the seconds passed and Tea remained alive and unharmed, Ryou realized that the Spirit was actually calming down. Even his expression eased, although his eyes still glowed murderously. "Do that again, and I'll kill you." Ryou had no doubt that he meant every word.

Tea, on the other hand, was less impressed. "Not such a fan of violence when you don't get to inflict it, huh?" She shifted forward. "Well, if you don't want another round, there's a solution for that. A solution so simple even you should be able to follow it." She looked straight into his eyes. "_Don't touch my boyfriend." _


	31. Chapter 31

At that, the Spirit did the last thing that Ryou expected. He started laughing. Not a knowing chuckle, not a cruel cackle, but a deep, rolling, shoulder-shuddering belly laugh. He let go of Tea's arms as he convulsed, bracing himself, hands on knees, to keep from collapsing. Finally, the laughter subsided and he straightened, although he couldn't wipe the huge grin off his face. "Sorry," he said, wiping his eyes. "It's just that…" he started chuckling again, but suppressed it quickly. "_Don't touch my boyfriend,"_ he mimicked—rather badly, especially since he started cracking up after the first word.

Tea folded her arms across her chest. "I really don't see what's so funny about that," she said coldly.

"Don't you?" The Spirit shook his head, his shoulders still shaking a little. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. But _come on._ Your _boyfriend?_ Really? _Him?_" he gestured dismissively toward Ryou.

Ryou wished he could be more offended, but he was still mostly too stunned to react. He'd been just as surprised, if not more, to hear Tea describe him that way, but unlike the Spirit, he didn't find it remotely funny. He did wish to anything that the Spirit wasn't here. This should have been an incredible moment between him and Tea, a moment he'd dreamed about for ages. But the Spirit was turning it into a farce, instead.

Then he felt the warm pressure of Tea's hand on his shoulder. "Yes, really," she insisted. "I think I made it pretty clear how I feel about Ryou." She glanced at him and theirs eyes met. She smiled and for a second Ryou felt he could have sprouted wings and flown them both to heaven.

Then the Spirit spoke, and her gaze snapped back to him. "You made quite a number of things clear to me, but I don't recall _that_ being one of them," he drawled. Tea flushed a little, but didn't drop her gaze. The Spirit's broad smile narrowed to a smirk. "Still, laying that aside, how exactly do you plan to protect your 'boyfriend' from me?" he inquired.

Tea reached out and touched the scrape on the Spirit's temple. She brought her finger back and waved it, drops of crimson blood clinging to her flesh. "I'd say I've done alright so far."

The Spirit shook his head, amused. "You silly little child," he said. "Are you still entertaining the notion that you can stop me? Haven't we established already just how very helpless you are?" He reached for her hand and pulled it toward himself. Before either Ryou or Tea react, his tongue snaked out and lapped up the crimson drops. Tea gasped. In response, the Spirit merely opened his mouth and drew her finger inside.

"Stop." Tea pulled away and her finger came free with a wet, slurping _pop_. She turned her face away from the Spirit, but Ryou could see it clearly. She had gone pale, except for two splashes of vivid pink on her cheek.

Ryou wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tight, but he didn't know how she would react. He couldn't read the odd look in her eyes. So he settled for stepping in between her and the Spirit. "Leave her alone," he demanded.

The Spirit shook his head. "More orders, little host? I thought I had been very clear on my feelings about that." The Spirit leaned in close to him. "You do not tell me what to do. You do not control me. I control you. I own you. What you have—up to and including your body and soul—belongs to me for as long as I care to possess it. You have no power here. You have nothing."

"Wrong." Tea was by his side, her arm around his waist and her blue eyes blazing. "He has me."

"I think you'll find that you're the one mistaken, my dear." The Spirit's eyes gleamed dangerously. "Allow me to repeat myself. _Everything_ he has belongs to me." With a chuckle, he leaned in and kissed her.

It was a tiny kiss, no more than a brush of lips, lasting only a second or two. If it had been any longer, Ryou would have torn his head from his neck and hurled into the darkness—or at least so he liked to think. As it was, Ryou's hands were just millimeters from his throat when the Spirit pulled away and moved backwards, laughing.

"I'll kill you," Ryou snarled. "Got that? I'll bloody kill you!"

"Get in line," Tea said. Her eyes flashed blue fire.

The Spirit just grinned. "You really think you could do it?" he asked Ryou. "Please. Even if you could, which you clearly can't, you wouldn't. Still, nice to see you developing a little spine." He turned his gaze to Tea. "As for you, my sweet, don't pretend you didn't like it."

Tea slapped him.

"Ow," Ryou complained. He touched his cheek gingerly. "We're still connected, you know. Big sensations still get through. Like pain."

"Sorry," Tea told him. "Well, actually I'm not sorry I slapped him. I'm just sorry you had to feel it."

"Yeah, me too." Ryou sighed. "I guess the consolation is, it hurt him more."

They both turned to look at the Spirit. The red imprint of Tea's hand was clear against his pale skin. Anger burned in his dark eyes, but his mouth was twisted in a smile. "Well, this is amusing." He touched his cheek gingerly. "A little more visceral than I had anticipated, I will admit." His gaze lingered sardonically on Tea. "I suppose you can't get any sugar without taking a few lumps."

Tea flushed. "I'll give you more than a few lumps if you try that again!"

"Enough."The Spirit held up a hand. "Can't you keep your emotions in check for two seconds?" He glared at her. "The shadows feed on strong emotions—anger, jealousy, fear, hate, even love, joy, hope. If you keep exploding like that, the shadows will concentrate here and we'll have far more to deal with than a little navigational problem." He folded his arms across his chest. "The key to surviving the Shadow Realm is composure. Try to keep a damper on your emotions—and if you can't, at least keep them to yourself." He heaved a sigh. "The last thing we need is to call up a demon."

"One is quite enough," Tea agreed. The Spirit fixed her with a killing stare, but didn't respond. Guess he was talking his own advice to heart after all.

"If we're all done with petty demonstrations of spite, then follow me," the Spirit said after a minute. He headed off through the purple mists. Ryou exchanged a glance with Tea. She gave a tiny nod. Together, they started after him. After all, they had no choice.

They walked through the shadows for what seemed like hours. It could just have easily been a few minutes, Ryou knew. The Shadow Realm had ways of playing tricks on your senses. But it still felt like hours, as they trudged through the endless shifting miasmas. In one sense, the shadows were never the same. The mists were always a different variation of deep purples and greys, the black pits were always in slightly different spots. In another way, it was all unchanging. No matter how far or longer they walked, there was never anything remotely approaching a landscape, only pits and hollows blanketed by a deceptive layer of fog. Ryou had no idea how the Spirit navigated through it. In fact, he wasn't convinced that the Spirit wasn't just leading them in circles. He narrowed his eyes. Why should the Spirit help them, anyway? Maybe he was only biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment, or trying to find a way to separate Ryou from Tea. He moved a little closer to her. He wasn't going to let that happen. Tea had no idea of the lecherous plans the Spirit had in store for her, but Ryou did and he wasn't going to let any of them come to pass.

His connection the Spirit was still there—a gossamer thread instead of the thick chain it had been. But not only did the connection seem to be weaker, it also seemed more open. Back in the real world, the Spirit could reach into him whenever he chose, but Ryou got precious little from him—a strong emotions, a prominent thought now and then, but usually only if the Spirit was deliberately letting him read it. But now…Ryou was getting the sense that the Spirit had lost control of the connection, or at least couldn't keep as tight a hold on it. It was possible that he could get enough out of it to determine whether the Spirit was betraying them or not.

Ryou let his eyes fall half-closed as he tried to probe along the connection. It was so thin. It was all he could do to feel the Spirit's presence—even though he _knew_ that the Spirit was walking only a few feet ahead of him. He clenched his fists, concentrating harder. He could feel something now, an emotion as oily as the Spirit was himself. It was just a pinprick of feeling, but Ryou opened himself up to it, waiting patiently.

_Lust. _

Ryou should have expected it, but he was caught off guard at the strength of it, once he concentrated. Raw, steamy, primal lust, directed in a wave straight at Tea. With his eyes half-lidded and his unfocused gaze resting on the drifting mists, he couldn't see Tea at all, yet every curve of her body was imprinted clear in his mind as the Spirit's thoughts caressed them. Ryou froze, half-repulsed by the lewd emotions coursing through him, half-stirred by them.

"Ryou?" A hand touched his shoulder. Tea's hand. Heat sizzled through his blood. "Ryou?" she repeated. "Are you alright?"

Ryou blinked. His vision cleared and he saw Tea's face, her azure eyes wide with concern. He forced a smile. "I think so," he said. Actually, he didn't. He had let go of the connection, but he still felt the lusts churning through him. Was it still the Spirit's desires he felt, or his own? Whichever it was, he needed to get it under control _now. _

Tea looked skeptical. "Are you sure? You were…gone… for a long time." Her eyes flickered over him, her brow puckering. "I don't know exactly how this Shadow Realm place works, but I remember how weak Yugi got during his duel with Pegasus." She met his eyes. "Don't let that happen to you, okay?" She squeezed his shoulder.

Ryou smiled. "Okay." His eyes followed her as she let go of his shoulder and strode through the shadows. Her ivory skin looked paler than normal against the swirling darkness, her hair a dark cloud brushing the tops of her shoulders, mostly bare except for the straps of her ice blue sun dress. His eyes drifted down the sleek lines of her dress, lingering on where it hugged her hips and the round curve of her backside. He blushed and tore his eyes away. What had gotten into him? The Spirit, he decided. All of his life—or at least since the Ring had become part of it—he had feared that the evil of the Ring's occupant would eventually corrupt him. Now it finally had. Just not the way Ryou had ever expected.

Whether it was their connection, or merely perceptiveness, the Spirit turned to look at him and their eyes met. A knowing smile lit his face.

Ryou winced. _I'm nothing like him,_ he told himself as he trudged through the shadows. _Nothing. _

If only he actually believed that.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: Huge apologies for the lack of updates. This chapter was a difficult one. I've re-written and revised it so many times and the changes have been truly dramatic. Finally, however, I am happy with the way it turned out and the story can continue.

* * *

><p>The shadows swirled around the three pale figures, now the lavender-tinged grey of crumbling granite, now the pitiless black of an endless abyss. The travelers were an affront to the shadows, clinging to form and substance, to light and life and hope. But the shadows were patient. They were ancient, as old as death and hatred. They had worn down great mountains into nothing but a pit of black sand. And these travelers carried with them such succulent delicacies—grief, fear, love, anger, jealousy. The shadows sighed, full of yearning, full of deep and unfathomable hunger. Just a teardrop's worth of sorrow, just a heartbeat of jealousy, just a mouthful of anger…the ravenous shadows roiled and strained for a taste of emotions these three carried. They were so full of it, barely contained, like sloshing waterskins carried through the desert. But why should the thirsty sand content itself with the drops that fall when with just a little push, just the smallest of nudges, all that cool, wet, delicious emotion would come pouring out?<p>

* * *

><p>Tea felt a tingling at the back of her neck. She rolled her shoulders, but she couldn't escape the feeling of being watched. She glanced nervously from side to side, expecting to see feral eyes peering at her from the shadows. But there was nothing.<p>

Well, if you considered the ghoulish mist and never-ending flickering shadows to be nothing. In a way, she supposed it _was_ nothing, the very definition of nothing. She shivered.

"Cold?" Bakura waggled an eyebrow at her. "I could warm up you if you'd like." The suggestive tone left little doubt as to how he would accomplish that feat.

Unbidden, the memory of what they had done together in the classroom stole over her memory. His body pressed hard against hers, the heat of it soaking into her skin. His mouth searing against her lips, her throat, her breasts…no there was nothing cold about it. The mere memory raised her temperature to scalding.

Blushing furiously, she snapped her head in the opposite direction. What was she thinking? Those weren't good memories; they were _terrible _ones. Bakura had forced her. Well, coerced her, anyway. At first.

He had hurt her. Her mind seized on the solid, irrefutable fact. Automatically, her hand went to the wound at her shoulder, where Bakura had clawed it. It wasn't there, of course, and neither was the familiar hum of pain. This was only an…image…an astral projection. Her real body was still back in the classroom…her pulse raced…on her knees before Bakura.

What would have happened if they hadn't suddenly found themselves in the Shadow Realm?

Her temperature skyrocketed and she ducked her head to hide the crimson hue she was certain blazed on her face. Okay, so the answer was obvious. It was just as obvious that she should _not _be dwelling on this. Not only was it completely degenerating her faith in her own mental health, and not only was she positive that Bakura was loving watching her squirm in embarrassment right now—no, she was NOT going to turn around and check—but Ryou was bound to notice how strange she was behaving. He was bound to ask her questions that she wasn't going to want to answer.

The thought sobered her and pulled her galloping pulse up short. Her eyes darted to Ryou's slight, pale figure a few yards ahead, leading the way through the shadows. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Ryou again. She'd meant the things she said to Bakura. She cared about Ryou. Truly. Deeply. Maybe even romantically. Everything was so complicated and messed-up right now and maybe their relationship—or whatever it was—couldn't possibly work out, but she wanted it to have a shot. Maybe it was crazy—and what in her life wasn't?—but she wanted to date Ryou Bakura.

They'd gotten over a lot that seemed un-get-over-able, and there were probably more storms to weather ahead. But Tea had the feeling that Ryou finding out she'd been in an R-rated situation with the Spirit would be a deal-breaker for him. At least it would be if he ever knew how much she'd enjoyed it.

Tea swallowed back a groan. Why couldn't it be _Ryou_ that made her feel like this—like prickles of fire had crawled under her skin? He had the exact same body as Bakura did, after all. It was _his_ body. The Spirit just borrowed it—the same way bank robbers took out a loan. But damn, could he fill it.

The Spirit smirked, just as if he'd read her thoughts. The idea had truly horrifying implications, so she shoved it away as quickly as possible. "Shove off," she muttered. "I have nothing to say to you."

"After a certain point, words are unnecessary," he agreed pleasantly. Without warning, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Before she could cry out, his other hand was over her mouth. His eyes glittered darkly as they bore into hers. The warning in them was plain—one sound and she would regret it. Slowly, he peeled his hand away from her mouth. Tea hauled in a shaky breath.

"Such beautiful skin," he murmured. His thumb rubbed back and forth over her skittering pulse—shockingly soft where all the rest of his fingers were bands of iron.

Let me go, Tea thought. But fear choked her and the words froze in her throat. There was something so feral in the way that the Spirit was looking at her now. If she screamed or struggled, she didn't know what he'd do. Whatever it was, it would be horrible.

Bakura bowed over her hand. Like a parody of a gallant knight with his lady, he lifted it to his lips. Only his mouth descended not on the back on her hand, but on the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist. There was the exquisite brush of skin on skin—and then sudden sharp pain. Only the swift return of Bakura's steely hand stifled her cry.

Through eyes blurred with tears, Tea looked down at her wrist—still pinioned in Bakura's grip. Tiny drops of red beaded on the creamy skin. He'd bitten her.

The Spirit's umber eyes met hers in silent laughter. The corner of his mouth quirked cruelly and then his long tongue darted out to lap at the droplets. He licked his lips. "You taste as good as I remember," he whispered in her ear. Tea stiffened as he brought his body against hers. Her gaze jerked away, towards Ryou. Surely he would hear something, notice they weren't following—_something_. The Spirit followed her look and chuckled quietly. "Don't expect anything from _that_ quarter. The shadows can be blinding—and deafening as well." He moved his mouth over her wrist once more, sucking greedily at the tiny wound he had made. Tea trembled. The Spirit's hand was still clamped tightly over her mouth, but his thumb stroked her cheek as if to soothe her. It was anything _but _soothing.

Suddenly, furiously, Tea bit down on Bakura's fingers. She knew she couldn't do any real damage, but it was still satisfying to feel his flesh between her teeth and taste the coppery liquid that splashed across her tongue. Bakura yanked his hand away. For an instant, his eyes blazed cold fury, but then he laughed. "So, you have the taste for it too." His low voice shivered through her skin. "I knew we were well matched."

Horror dawned over Tea's face and she began to shake her head vigorously. The Spirit ignored her. He lifted one of his injured fingers up to his face. A thin trickle of blood dribbled down its pale length. Bakura licked the blood away as neatly as a cat lapping up cream. Tea shuddered. Bakura laughed at her expression. "What? You think it's wrong for me to taste myself? Although I will readily admit, you taste much better." He nipped at her fingers with his sharp teeth, drawing blood. "Go on," he prodded her. "Try it." When she didn't budge, he forced her finger inside her mouth. The taste of it lingered on her tongue—warm and salty, with the aftertaste of rusty water. As far as she could tell, it was no less nasty-tasting than Bakura's blood had been.

The Spirit didn't seem to notice her wretched expression. His eyes were half-closed, a blissful expression on his face. "We could have so much fun together, you and me. If only we weren't here." He sighed. "I'll just have to be content with this for now." In one swift movement, his hand was on her hip, pulling her hard against his body. His mouth descended on hers and his tongue plunged between her lips. For a few brief seconds, Tea's world was a maelstrom of searing heat and the taste of blood. Then, Bakura pulled away. Black lust flickered in his eyes, but his voice was smooth and controlled, dripping with mockery as he said, "You could be my favorite obsession." As Tea scowled, he brought her wrist up to his mouth and dropped one last salute on it.

He hadn't quite let go when Ryou turned around.

"Tea? Everything ok—" He broke off as he took in the scene before him: Tea and Bakura, the Spirit looming dangerously close to her, her hand gripped in his. His snowy brows snapped together as he advanced on Bakura. "Let go of her," he barked.

The Spirit gave a world-weary sigh. "More orders, little host? I thought we had already been over this." His mouth twisted in a smug grin. "I don't have to do a thing you say." He turned and leered at Tea. "Especially when it comes to her."

An ugly look rushed over Ryou's face and he raised his hand. A second later, he would have punched him in the gut, if Tea hadn't stopped him. "Ryou, don't," she pleaded. "We need him."

Tea jerked her hand free of the Spirit's grip. The Spirit let her. "Ryou, it's not what it looks like," she lied. "I…I tripped. H-he was just helping me up. That's all."

"But he… you…" Ryou spluttered. At least he lowered his arm.

"He's baiting you. And you're letting him." She took his hand in both of hers. "C'mon, Ryou," she whispered. "Do you really think anything could have happened? You were right over there."

Ryou relaxed a little, although his expression still looked doubtful. "I guess not," he admitted. "Still…" he trailed off, clearly unsure of what to say. He sighed. "I just want to take care of you, Tea. You don't know what the Spirit's capable of. I have to protect you."

Oh, if he only knew. Tea cupped the side of Ryou's jaw. "I know you won't let anything happen to me," she lied, and feathered her lips over his. Ryou kissed her back, warm and gentle. His mouth opened eagerly under hers as his hand threaded into her hair, pulling her closer. The soft wool of his sweater rubbed against her cheek. Briefly, Tea closed her eyes and surrendered to the sensation.

It was a nice kiss. It was tender and giving, all the things that Ryou was. She only wished that when he kissed her, the earth spun or her toes tingled or her heart exploded out of her chest. But none of that happened. It was just a kiss.

"Mmmm." There was a dreamy look in Ryou's chocolate brown eyes as he gently drew back. "That was…"

"Like skipping down a meadow of flowers while the sky drips rainbows and butterflies," supplied Bakura in a breathless falsetto.

Tea glared at him. He met her look with an insufferably smug grin. "Go to hell," she snapped.

"Already there."

A retort rose to her lips, but died, stillborn. Her eyes, glued over Bakura's shoulder, went as wide as saucers. "What…?" Her mouth went so dry she couldn't get the words out. She just stared and pointed, as Ryou echoed the words that stuck in her throat.

"What _**is**_ that thing?"

Bakura turned around and grimaced. "Well, damn."


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: Check my profile for a new DD-related poll. Influence the story! ...or just satisfy my curiosity about my readership. Thanks so much to my loyal readers and reviewers. You guys keep me motivated!

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><p>Ryou froze, dead in his tracks. Directly in front of him towered the most disturbing thing Ryou had ever laid eyes on.<p>

He couldn't say for certain what it was about the thing that made his insides turn to jelly. After all, he'd seen a lot of horrible things. He'd seen dead bodies, pools of blood, dismembered body parts. He'd seen all kinds of monsters, some holograms, some not. He had an evil spirit with some truly revolting memories living inside of him. His life was practically a walking horror movie, for all he kept wishing it could be a rom-com. But this thing in front of him wasn't like all that. Those things were…relatable. They were conceptually—if not physically—tangible.

The only thing Ryou could say for certain about this thing was that it was huge and that he was terrified of it. It loomed a good ten feet over Ryou's head and was at least twice as wide as he was. It was a great, black shape—a puddle of blackness a few shades darker than the shadows around it—with two yawning chasms for eyes. Their depths glowed a faint red, like windows to the fires of hell.

And then it moved, slowly, but deliberately, in a sort of lurching slither.

It was a slug, he thought. A giant black slug. He shivered. A memory from his childhood stirred inside him. It was just after Amane's death, after they'd moved for the first time. Some bully had thought it would be funny to fill his thermos with slugs. Ryou'd been so busy trying to be invisible that he hadn't even noticed when he opened the thermos. He'd brought the spoon to his lips and then he'd seen: golden, steaming chicken noodle soup—and a huge black slug in the center of it all.

He forced the memory away, although he couldn't stop the shudder of revulsion that racked his frame.

The _thing_ oozed closer, slurping through the shadows and leaving dark slime, like congealed blood, in its wake.

Ryou bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. It was a slug. That was all. Slugs weren't so scary. All you had to do was sprinkle salt on them and they shriveled up and died. No sooner had the thought formed than the great, amorphous mass began to quiver and gobs of black pus seeping off it, like Jell-o left out on a hot summer's day. Ryou couldn't tear his eyes away, despite the revulsion that shuddered through him. And, then, just like a slug, it seemed to shrivel.

Before his eyes, it shrank, glistening fat melting away to reveal bony ridges and gleaming scales. It wasn't a slug at all. It was a snake. Or rather, a snake-like creature. Ryou was fairly certain that most snakes didn't have cruel spikes bursting out of their spines—spikes tipped with something that looked suspiciously like blood. Beside him, Tea stiffened. Ryou pushed her behind him. "Back off, you." The words were meant to be a shout. They came out like a whimper.

As if in answer, the snake-creature opened its mouth in the parody of a smile. Far too many teeth crowded inside, all impossibly long and razor-sharp. Tea sucked in her breath and clutched at Ryou's arm, her fingers digging frantically into his skin. Ryou glanced back at her. Her face was white and her eyes looked glassy. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, even though smiling was the last thing he felt like doing, but she didn't meet her gaze, or even look in his direction. All of her attention was glued on the creature that was steadily advancing on them.

Ryou gritted his teeth and set his shoulders as he swung back to face the monster. It was still shifting, skeletal ridges bursting from its body into half-formed hellish wings. Its eyes glowed demonically as it caught Ryou's glare, redder than the heart of the inferno.

And then he wondered why he had ever thought its eyes were red at all, when they were black, as black as a cemetery at midnight. There was something more than darkness in those black pits. It was a complete void, like staring into the heart of a black hole. Ryou had the feeling if he looked too long, it would suck the soul right out of him where he stood. He shivered, suddenly aware of the icy cold that gripped his body. He went to hug his arms to his chest, but found them frozen at his side. Panic welled in his chest, but he couldn't move. No, he could. His legs were slowly carrying him towards the creature. He could feel Tea's fingers still gripping desperately at his arm, but only faintly, as if all his senses had gone numb. There was a moment of distant pain, and then the feeling stopped altogether. A scream resounded in his mind, but not the barest whisper of it reached his ears. He couldn't feel his fingers. He couldn't feel anything. He was nothing.

A hard slap across his face brought him back to his senses.

"Don't look in its eyes, you idiot." The Spirit of the Ring glared daggers at him.

Ryou hauled in a ragged breath as his senses rushed back to him. He was standing in a sea of shadows, an utterly terrified Tea standing a few feet behind him, and a pissed Spirit between him and the horrific creature.

"What is it?" Tea whispered. Her gaze was fixed on the ground, but even so she was paler than Ryou had ever seen her before and she was trembling slightly. Her arms were hugged to her chest.

"A shadow demon," the Spirit said grimly. He swore under his breath. "I warned you fools."

Ryou flushed with guilt, remembering the passionate kiss he'd shared with Tea only a few minutes ago. Why hadn't he remembered the danger? But the Spirit's words seemed to shake Tea from her gloom. She glared right back at the Spirit, her attention snapping away from the demon. "Oh, like you had nothing to do with it?" she retorted, her tone dripping acid.

The Spirit rolled his eyes, but made no reply. He looked away from her, in the direction of the shadow demon. His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing to dark slits. When at last, he did speak, his words were not at all what Ryou was expecting. "Run."

Ryou goggled at him. "What?"

The Spirit whirled on him fiercely. "I know you're not deaf. I share your ears, after all. Run." His eyebrows bristled. "Get out of here!" But despite the vehemence of his words, he didn't move himself, not one inch.

Ryou glanced uneasily at Tea, not sure what to make of this unexpected turn. "What are you…"

"Tea, take him!" The Spirit snapped. He shoved her in Ryou's direction. "Grab him and run as fast as you can in that direction." He jabbed his finger into the distance.

Tea grabbed Ryou's wrist, her body already in motion. Still, she hesitated the barest second. "What about you?" she asked.

The Spirit's expression twisted bitterly. "When have you ever cared about what happened to me?" When her mouth opened as if to respond, he growled, "Now, go!"

Tea didn't need to be told twice. Her feet flew over the ground. It was all Ryou could do to keep up. He was certain that at any moment he was going to trip over his own feet and hurtle to the ground. He doubted Tea would even slow her stride. She would simply drag him along, scraping and bumping, as she ran.

They ran and ran for what seemed an eternity, but they seemed to out barely any distance between themselves and the demon. Ryou's heart pounded in his chest. This was some Shadow Realm trick, he was sure of it. They might as well be running on a treadmill for all the progress they were making. He closed his eyes in frustration. It couldn't end like this. Not here. Not now.

Tea's hand suddenly went rigid, as if she had stopped dead in her tracks. Even as his fingers tightened on hers, he could feel her hand slip out of his grasp. "Tea!" he gasped. His eyes flew open.

"How are you doing that?" Tea was there, still running as hard as ever, but several feet behind him now. She reached for him, but no matter how she strained, she couldn't seem to reach him. "You suddenly just shot ahead." She glanced over her shoulder. So far, the Spirit was still holding off the creature, but they'd barely made it two yards away. If the demon turned his attention back to them, they'd be sitting ducks.

"I don't know!" Ryou shook his head frantically. "I didn't do anything. I just…" His breath caught. "I closed my eyes!" he realized suddenly. "Tea," he shouted, "close your eyes!"

"What?"

"Just do it!" He deliberately slowed, catching her hand in his. She shot him a look and their eyes connected for just a split second before they both closed them.

They ran. Blindly, through dark and shadow, cold and fear, they ran. They heard nothing, not even their own footsteps pounding on the ground or their breath coming in gasps and pants. They felt nothing but cold, seeping through their limbs, filling their lungs, numbing them to all but pain. Except for their hands. Their entwined hands were a blazing anchor, the only real thing in this frozen nightmare world.

They ran. And ran, and ran, and ran.

And when at last they could run no longer and Ryou fell, gasping and wheezing, to his knees, they opened their eyes. A luminous portal loomed before them. Endless shadow was at their back. The shadow demon was nowhere to be seen.

Neither was the Spirit.


	34. Chapter 34

A/N: Snowstorms are good for the writing juices! In other news, I changed the rating back to T, because the vast majority of the story so far fits that and there hasn't been any explicit content to date. If that changes (or if people think Ch. 28 really needs an M), I'll move it back up.

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><p>Bakura spared one glance over his shoulder. Nothing but darkness met his gaze. Either the girl and his host had made it safely away or the shadows had swallowed him up. Either way, they were now irrelevant.<p>

The shadows hissed and writhed as the demon stalked closer. Its form rippled, now skeletal, now gelatinous, now spectral, as it snatched at Bakura's fears, trying to find purchase. The Spirit stood his ground, a wry smile playing at his lips. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, not meeting the demon's eyes, but refusing to look away. Already, he could feel the cold, the icy cold, clutching at his skin, sucking the warmth away. _You don't __**have**__ skin_, he reminded himself. _You don't __**have**__ warmth._ The trouble with being embodied was that it was so damn addicting. A paltry five years sharing some teenager's skinbag and he was already forgetting how to be spirit, how to be pure, undiluted essence. Physicality was a habit that was hard to break.

The shadow demon loomed over him. Horrific bat-like wings ripped out of the viscous mass, and cruel black horns took shape. Bakura didn't have to look up to know that its great burning pits of eyes were boring into him. Fresh chills broke out across the back of his neck. His hands clenched. He could feel the happiness draining away, like the water had suddenly been shut off in the middle of a hot shower. Slowly, he unclenched his fists. Let it. He didn't_ need_ happiness. Joy and peace were the opiates of the weak. He was not weak, had never been weak. And he'd never had more than two moments' happiness to rub together, anyway.

The demon's shape flickered like a candle flame. It seemed to shrink, dwindling from its fiendish form to a simpler shape. Arms and legs emerged, followed by a head-and an achingly familiar profile. The old, black hatred rolled across his soul, and for just a second, the fury of it kept him warm. But only for a moment. After the first fiery rush, he was left with only the wintry ache of rancor and the bite of unfulfilled vengeance. A vengeance that had once seemed just beneath his fingertips, only to be snatched away. A vengeance he'd been straining after for millennia, with nothing to show for it but an endless well of anger and the body of a useless boy.

The despair came then, seeping in under the chill of bitterness. He could feel the demon's icy breath whispering at his nape. _Stop struggling. What's the point?_ Bakura bristled and threw his shoulders back, but even the small movement took effort-so much effort. His arms felt heavy; his head felt like it was cast iron. His body was a limp noodle, a scrawny strand of cooked, cold, spaghetti, flopping about uselessly in the darkness. It was utterly impossible that he could support his own weight. Any instant now, he was going to collapse in a heap, crushed by his own head. It would be better to lie down now. Get it over with.

The cold was in his blood now. He could hardly even feel it. He could hardly feel anything. There was just numbness, and heaviness, and darkness.

_Give up,_ the icy whisper crooned. _It's hopeless. Just give in to the dark. _

The dark?

Something like a laugh—something sharp and electric—jolted through him. What was this nonsense he'd been letting himself entertain? And what shadow demon was there that could tame him, Bakura, Master of the Millennium Ring?

He closed his eyes—no, he didn't _have_eyes—and released his grip on the form he wore. He was not pale skin and paler hair. He was not skinny legs and brandy-colored eyes. He was anger and vengeance, sTéalth and cunning. He was bloody shadows on a temple wall. He was ancient evil, primordial hate. He opened the eyes that were nothing more than merest illusion, looked straight into the bottomless pits of the demon's face, and laughed.

"You fool," he cackled, and his voice bore no resemblance to the voice of Ryou Bakura. "You fool. Don't you know that I **am** the darkness?"

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><p>Ryou scrambled to his feet, trying to catch his breath. His chest felt as though it had been impaled by a thousand knives and his legs felt like Jell-O that someone had taken a blowtorch to. It wasn't fair. This whole place was an illusion. He wasn't physically here and this wasn't his actual body, so why couldn't he be fit? He wasn't asking for Olympic-level stamina; it just would have been nice to not feel like he was going to die after running a mile.<p>

Had it been a mile? He glanced back, but there was no way of telling how far they had run. There was nothing but the endlessly shifting shadows, an ever-changing pattern of purple-tinged darkness and the utter black of the abyss.

Téa was staring behind them as well, her brow knit. "Bakura," she breathed. She glanced over at Ryou. "He's not coming." There was a note of panic in her voice.

Ryou nodded slowly. He'd come to that conclusion himself. "He stopped the demon," he said. "Or at least slowed him down." The thought reminded him that they were not completely out of danger, not yet. "Come on," he said, reaching for her hand. "We'd better go."

But Téa didn't move. "Go?" she echoed. "We can't just...go."

"Yes, we can," Ryou said confidently. He gestured at the portal just up ahead. In contrast to the lugubrious darkness all around them, the portal glowed—feebly, it was true—with white light. "That has to be the way out of here. It must be one of the exits that the Spirit was talking about." He lifted his hand towards the portal and felt the faint tingle of light on his skin. This was the way out. He was sure of it.

But Téa was shaking her head. "But, Ryou..." For the first time, Ryou caught her expression and his heart sank. This wasn't about knowing the way, was it?

"What about Bakura?" Téa whispered. She looked back at the shadows. "We can't leave him."

"Why not?" Ryou knew his voice was harsh, but he didn't care. This was the Spirit of the Ring they were talking about. The parasite that had been leaching on his soul for years, sucking all the life and joy out of it. _Of course_ they could leave him behind. The very thought practically filled him with glee. Maybe, when he walked through that portal, everything would be different. Maybe the Ring around his neck would no longer be a millstone, but instead just a tacky piece of costume jewelry, able to be tossed away without a second thought.

Téa was staring at him and from the look on her face, she was not imagining the raptures of freedom that he was. "He saved us," she said stubbornly. "He didn't have to, you know."

"Maybe he did," Ryou replied. "Who knows what would have happened to him if that demon had devoured me. Nothing good, most likely." He was under no illusions about the Spirit's motives. He did nothing that was not for his own benefit, one way or another. If he had saved them, it was because he had some damn good reason to, and not from any sentimental impulse. "Now, come on. We haven't got much time. That demon might be coming back." He headed towards the portal, but Téa didn't budge. Ryou frowned. "Are you coming or not?"

Téa swallowed hard. She turned her eyes up to met Ryou's in a silent plea. For a second, they connected. His warm brown eyes were wells of hurt and frustration; bucketfuls of anger to be drawn before he would budge. Then Ryou looked away, and the moment was broken. Téa let her eyes drop too. She understood how Ryou felt. Actually, no she didn't. She couldn't; she realized that. But she could guess. She knew what the Spirit had put him through—or at least the dim outlines of it—and she could empathize with the pain in his eyes. But Bakura had _saved _them. Didn't Ryou understand that? How could they turn around and abandon him?

Maybe someone else could do it, but not her. Not them. They were better than that, weren't they? Hell, even Bakura wouldn't do that. Otherwise it would be him standing here in the shifting light of the portal, and them back at the mercy of that shadow demon. And if they were going to let Bakura outclass them in the morality department, well, then what was even the point of escaping the Shadow Realm? The shadow would be inside of them, and there would be no escape from it. Not now, not ever.

She snuck another glance at Bakura, but this time he didn't look at her. She wished she could make him see, help him understand that this was not about choosing the Spirit over him, or even about choosing the Spirit at all. It was about doing what was right. It was about being the kind of person who picked what was right over what was expedient. But she knew he wouldn't listen. There was too much baggage there. Some scars ran too deep. For him, this was all about Bakura, all about the tally of endless wrongs and grievances. Her heart went out to him, and she started to reach out her hand. He'd been hurt so much. She couldn't add another wound.

They didn't have time. The shadows were swirling around them faster and faster. Her heart rapped out a staccato beat in her chest. The shadow demon could be back at any moment. And Ryou needed to know her decision, even if he'd never agree with it.

Téa sighed. Her hand dropped to her side. Quietly, she said, "I'm staying. But if you need to go, I understand." She willed him to look at her, to see the sincerity in her eyes. "I really do."

But he wouldn't even turn in her direction. "No." His voice was as cold and bitter as day-old coffee. "I thought you did, but I was wrong. I've been wrong about a lot of things."

_"Ryou."_ The name was a whisper, a hopeless orison.

Ignoring her, Ryou stepped towards the portal. For an instant, he was illuminated in its glow and he looked beautiful and terrible, like an angel fallen from grace. Téa stretched out her hand, silently pleading. All of her words were drained out of her. She'd had too many of them anyway.

He glanced down at her hand and hesitated, just a second. Her heart leaped into her throat. Maybe, just maybe, he would forgive her after all.

Then, out of the darkness, a familiar, cynical voice sniggered. "Well, isn't this a touching little scene."


	35. Chapter 35

"Spirit!" Téa whirled to see the familiar shape of the Spirit of the Millennium Ring materialize out of the darkness. Only, there was something slightly off about that shape. She had only to glance over at Ryou to comprehend the scope of the problem. Ever since they had entered the Shadow Realm, the two of them had not been identical, but they had been similar. The differences in their bodies had been subtle—a bit of height, a suggestion of muscle, an alteration of hairstyle, and, of course, the clothes. In essentials, they were as they had ever been: variations on a theme.

But the Bakura that stood before her now did not look like a Ryou from another life or Ryou's older brother, or any of the other comparisons that would have seemed so apt only—How long had they been in this place? An hour? Two hours? A day? A month? Well, however long it had been—ago. This being was still human-shaped, still had the pale skin, brown eyes, and dead white hair of the boy standing next to her—although his eyes had a redder tinge to them than Tea had ever seen before. But he looked almost...stretched. Too tall and not wide enough, like a badly-enlarged photo. His fingers were too long, and little too much like claws. His skin didn't seem to be quite opaque. If she looked hard, Téa could see the guttering shadows through the outlines of his form.

Téa bit her lip against the tremor that raced down her spine. What was wrong with him? She took a step back and felt Ryou's arm descend around her shoulder. The warm weight of it was reassuring.

The Spirit's eyes drifted from one to the other. He smiled. It was the knowing smirk that she'd seen on his face so many times, yet this time, it looked almost like a grimace. Téa felt Ryou's hand tighten on her arm. "He doesn't always..." Ryou began in a whisper.

"Look like that?" she whispered back. She shook her head, just slightly. "No. Something's off. I don't know if it's even..." But she broke off as the Spirit's gaze sliced into hers. Quiet as their conversation had been, apparently the Spirit had heard it.

He took a step toward them-his movements too fast, his eyes unblinkingly fixed on Téa's. "What a fascinating conversation we are having," he said in a tone as bright and cheerful as a midnight funeral. "Do you mind if I join in?"

Ryou shifted, so that more of his bulk—insubstantial as it was—was between Téa and the Spirit. "Leave her alone," he demanded. "She hasn't done anything to you."

"So touchy, little landlord." Bakura laughed. "It's like you actually think she's yours to protect." His smile disappeared as quickly it had come. "If I wanted to hurt her, do you really think you could do anything about it?" He stretched out a claw-like white hand towards Téa. She shrank back.

"Stop that!' Ryou's voice was sharp. "You're frightening her!"

It was true. Téa's heart was hammering against her chest. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to get away—far away. Somehow, she had gotten comfortable with the Spirit. She had never quite forgotten who he was, what he was, but she had allowed the memory to go fuzzy. She'd allowed the recollection that he was an ancient spirit, a thief, a murderer, a stealer of souls, to dim. It was blazing now. He reached for her with those long, pale, clawlike fingers—fingers that had held her close and stroked her skin—and a cold, dread revulsion coursed through her veins. Desire? She couldn't even imagine having ever felt such a thing for this being.

"Frightening her?" the Spirit echoed, the caustic note in his voice untempered by his usual butter-smooth charm. "Don't be ridiculous. Téa's not frightened of me. How could she be?" His eyes gleamed as they roved up to meet Ryou's. "You simply don't understand just how well we know each other."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" demanded Ryou. Téa felt sick. Even she could hear the faint quaver under the outrage. By the twist of Bakura's mouth, it was obvious that so had he.

"Shall we say that Téa and I had some time to get acquainted recently?" He took another step towards her and his fingers slithered towards her hip.

"Don't touch me!" The words burst from her, shrill and stricken.

The Spirit laughed. "A little late for that, Téa." His voice dropped to a whisper that was almost a caress. _"Or don't you remember?"_

"What is he talking about?" Ryou asked quietly.

It was the very calmness and reasonableness of his voice was almost Téa's undoing. There was no accusation in his voice, no anger, no shock. Nothing that Téa could flare up at, nothing she could blame him for. There was no way to deflect the anger and shame that she felt, no one to point it at besides herself. Téars welled in her eyes. "Oh, Ryou," she whispered. She couldn't say it. She couldn't bear to watch the way his eyes would change when she told him the truth about what she had done. She couldn't stand to see the way he would look at her.

But even now, as the first teardrops escaped the corners of her eyes, his expression was changing. But not to anger or shock, no. His face softened. His eyes went gentle. "It's ok," he told her. His arm slipped from her shoulder to her waist as his other hand came up to tip up her chin. "Téa, it's okay."

She shook her head. "It's not," she whispered, but she couldn't make herself say any more.

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><p>It was the Spirit of the Ring, unexpectedly, that was her salvation.<p>

Just as the tears welled in her eyes and she groped for the words that would make Ryou flinch away from her in disgust, the Spirit broke in. Though he was the one who had instigated this scene, it seemed he had grown bored of it. Either that or the urgency of their situation had hit home. "Are we going to stand here and natter like we're on _Dr. Phil_, while the shadows attempt to devour our very essence, or are we going to make good our escape?"

"Alright, alright," Tea muttered, turning away. The grumpiness of her response concealed her relief. "How do you even know what _Dr. Phil_ is?"

"Uh…" Ryou looked sheepish. "Sometimes I like to have the television on during the day. You know, so the apartment doesn't feel so empty. White noise and all that."

The Spirit snorted. "Sure. He _never_ sits and watches for hours at a time. And he never cries during Oprah, either."

Ryou's cheeks went bright pink. "Shut up," he said. But he didn't say it very loudly.

"My host's bizarre tastes in daytime programming aside," the Spirit said. "We do need to hurry."

A shiver raced down Téa's spine. "Is that demon-thing still coming after us?"

A tiny frown quirked across Bakura's face. It was an odd, stiff kind of frown, like the Spirit was still working out just how to make the expression. Téa's heart clenched just a little. The Spirit's banter of a few minutes ago had eased her first, irrational fear—that this being wasn't really the Spirit at all—but now that fear came sneaking back in. What if the demon had devoured Bakura after all? They'd already seen it change shape. It could be impersonating Bakura right now.

His next words didn't exactly reassure her. "No, I don't think that particular demon will be coming after us any time soon." His odd frown momentarily disappeared, replaced with the smug smile that he did so much better. "However," he added, "there are other dangers to the Shadow Realm. Not to mention, the entrances and exits are always shifting. We can't be sure how long this gateway will remain here."

Tea bit her lip. If he was a shadow demon in disguise, then what would happen if he tried to follow them into the real world? Would they escape him? Or would the nightmare only be beginning?

Ryou, however, didn't seem to have the same doubts. "Right," he said, squaring his shoulders. "Ladies first." He gestured to Téa.

"Not the best idea," the Spirit interjected smoothly. "While I don't know how she did it, I'm still convinced that the girl was responsible for bringing us here. If she returns, it might cause the shadows to shift—trapping us both."

Ryou bristled. "What, then? You can't think I'm letting you go ahead. You'd seal us both away in here if you could."

The Spirit didn't deny the charge. He merely shrugged. "Perhaps. Although if I wanted your souls to remain in the shadows, I could simply have let that demon back there devour you both." Ryou looked unconvinced. The Spirit continued, "But don't fret, dear landlord. I'll be the one to go last." He nodded towards the faintly luminous portal. "You go first, and then I'll send the girl. If the passage remains stable, I'll follow behind."

The suspicion was thick in Ryou's voice as he asked, "And why would you do that?"

Bakura chuckled, and the sound of dark mockery was so familiar that it almost erased Téa's fears. "When you think I want to go first, you don't trust me. When I offer to go last, you trust me even less. Getting a little paranoid, aren't we, little one?"

"Don't try to evade the issue!" snapped Ryou. Téa could tell that the Spirit's condescending remarks were getting under his skin, no matter how much he pretended to shrug them off. "Why are you willing to go last when you said yourself that as soon as Téa goes, the portal might disappear?"

The Spirit folded his arms across his chest. His shape seemed to be settling. Every time Téa looked at him, he looked a little more human. His face was now almost completely normal if you didn't stare at it too closely. "Whether you chose to accept it or not, I don't want either of you to be lost to the darkness at this present moment—a fate that is near certainty if either of you are left behind when the portal closes. For me, however, it would an…inconvenience. It might take me a while, but I will find another way out of the shadows and I will keep my essence intact while I do it." He gave Ryou a dismissive look. "If you could say the same, I'd be all too happy to take the lead."

Ryou scowled, but he seemed to have accepted the Spirit's explanation. Téa, however, was less sure. Her trepidation only increased as Ryou walked up to the edge of the portal. Sure, it seemed like a way out, with its pale, pearly glow. But what if it was really taking them someplace else, somewhere deep in the heart of the shadows where they would never escape? What if that was exactly what the Spirit—or rather, the demon—had in mind?

She didn't speak any of these fears aloud, but Ryou sensed her distress. He squeezed her hand and gave her a smile. "See you on the other side," he told her. Letting go of her hand, he walked into the light.

For a second, he was silhouetted against the portal's luminosity; then his dark shape began to fade into the light. In another second, he would disappear altogether.

That second did not come.

Faster than thought, Bakura's hand shot out. His arm stretched out like putty, only to snap back into place as he yanked Ryou back in a single swift movement. There was some kind of flash—or maybe the opposite of a flash, a sudden bloom of darkness—and then Ryou went completely limp and collapsed to the ground.


	36. Chapter 36

A/N: Um...hello out there? Don't want to be a review-whore, but I am wondering if people are still reading. I know I'm bad at responding (working on that), but I do read every review and I listen carefully to comments, criticisms, and feedback.

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><p>"What did you do?" Téa screamed. She rushed to Ryou's side. He was pale, even for him, and completely unresponsive as she shook him gently. Her chest constricted with panic. But, as far as she could tell, there was nothing else wrong with him. He was still breathing—his chest rising and falling steadily—and there weren't any obvious wounds or marks on him. It was like he had fallen into a deep sleep.<p>

"He's fine," Bakura—or whatever it was in Bakura's shape—said,in Ryou's direction. waving a dismissive hand.

"That's not an answer." Tea's voice was sharp with anger and fear. "What did you _do?_"

"Relax, sweetheart." Bakura's lazy grin did nothing to dispel the tightness in her chest. "I just exerted a bit of … willpower, that's all. Nothing to get so worked up about."

"He's unconscious," Tea pointed out. She gave Ryou's shoulder a last futile tug and rocked back on her heels. He looked so peaceful lying there, like a slumbering angel.

The Spirit shrugged. "He'll wake in a few minutes…which doesn't leave us much time."

"Time for what?" Téa asked warily. She got to her feet slowly, keeping herself between Ryou's prone body and the Spirit, although she knew that her chances of protecting herself, let alone Ryou, were slim to none.

A smile as thin and treacherous as an assassin's blade curved the Spirit's lips. "Time to talk."

_Talk._ With the Spirit of the Ring, that could mean anything. Téa folded her arms across her chest. "Just what makes you think I have anything to say to you? And what kind of place is this to have a pow-wow?"

"Would you have preferred me to let him go through?" the Spirit queried. "Or have you forgotten what he would find when he re-entered his body?"

Heat scorched Téa's cheeks as she pictured the scene. Ryou would find himself free of his bonds, shirtless, with the Ring against his bare chest. Worse, she would be sprawled on her knees in front of him, her breasts bare and her skin flushed with passion. Her stomach clenched just thinking of his reaction.

The Spirit's smile widened. "Ah. You did forget. But now you see why you should be thanking me for my intervention. We wouldn't want innocent Ryou's mind to be scarred forever, would we? Not to mention what it would do to his heart."

Téa bristled. "What do you want, Bakura?" Her earlier doubt about the Spirit's identity had evaporated. The shadow demon couldn't know about what she and Bakura had done, and even if it had, why would it be toying with her this way? On the other hand, this kind of mind game was exactly up the Spirit of the Ring's alley.

Bakura pretended to give her question some thought. "What do I want? Hmmm…."

"Out with it," growled Téa.

"Have it your way. What I want is for you to give your body to Ryou."

Téa nearly choked. "_What?"_ she spluttered.

"You heard me." The Spirit smirked. "Or do I need to spell it out in more _detail_ for you?"

Crimson suffused every inch of Téa's skin. "You can't be serious! W-why would you possibly ask me to…?"

The Spirit ignored her question—or at least the question part of it. "Oh, I'm not asking. Think of this as…a mission. A mission you had better complete." The threat in his voice was barely veiled.

"Mission," Téa muttered, scarcely able to comprehend what she was hearing. "And what exactly does this 'mission' entail?" She'd been talking to herself, mostly, not expecting Bakura to answer, but he did, in brisk detail.

"You have four hours to seduce him. That should be plenty of time for someone so...talented as you." His eyes swept over her breasts. "Besides, the runt's already besotted with you. As a _person_." He let out a derisive snort that left little doubt on his opinion on her worth as a person. Or perhaps it was the whole concept of finding anyone valuable as a person that he found laughable.

His gaze settled back over her face and he frowned. "I know you don't feel the same way about him that he does about you." A protest rose to her lips and he lifted a hand to forestall it. "Don't. I know." A wicked grin flicked over his lips. "You don't kiss like a girl who's head over heels for someone else." She opened her mouth to make a retort, but he cut her off with a swift, punishing kiss. It lasted only the barest of seconds, but the raw intensity of it left her toes tingling. "See what I mean?" There was just a hint of breathlessness in his voice.

She wanted to rail at him, to go on and on about how physical attraction was not that same thing at all as a romantic connection and how perfectly possible it was to be attracted to more than one person, but he didn't give the opportunity. "It doesn't matter," he said brusquely. "All those million thoughts I know are scurrying through that complicated head of yours don't matter one whit. Not your excuses for why that kiss doesn't matter. Not your rationalizations for why you really care about Ryou and why you don't care at all about me. Not even your worries that you really don't love Ryou enough after all." His long bone-white fingers gripped the underside of her chin. "Because it doesn't matter what you think. It only matters what Ryou thinks." He smiled. "I'm not asking you to marry him. I'm not even asking you to string him along for a couple of months, or weeks, or even days. All you have to do is seduce the kid." His other hand came to rest on her hip and molded her body to his. "And the less talking—or thinking—you do, the better."

Téa caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "And if I don't?" she asked, after a moment's hesitation.

A lewd gleam lit Bakura's eyes. "Let's put it this way, my delectable darling. In four hours time, you will no longer be a virgin. You can offer yourself freely to Ryou...or I'll take you for myself—by force if necessary." To punctuate his point, he bucked his hips against hers—hard. His hands held her fast as she tried to stumble backwards. "Such a sacrifice," he muttered aloud, and she could feel the hard, straining bulge pressed between her thighs. "If I weren't a devil, they'd have to make me a saint."


	37. Chapter 37

Every sense Tea possessed was reeling. The heat of Bakura's hard, lean body burned through her flesh. He pressed against her, not a breath between them, as if determined to brand his touch upon her. Revulsion roiled inside her, but, for all her disgust, she wasn't immune to the raw sexuality he exuded. She had no opportunity to ponder her body's troubling reaction. Her mind was already whirling, faster and faster, endlessly revolving around the words she still couldn't believe she had really heard not ten seconds ago. _"In four hours time, you will no longer be a virgin. You can offer yourself to Ryou freely…or I'll take you for myself—by force if necessary." _

The words were seared into her memory, yet they still seemed unreal. Impossible. No matter what her ears told her, her mind refused to accept it. The Spirit of the Ring allowed her no time to process any of it. Neither was she given a chance to ask any questions, least of all why he was insisting on this bizarre course of , mere seconds after his shocking announcement, he shoved her away from him—as if she had been the one to initiate the contact—though he didn't let go. "Enough," he growled. "It's time." His left hand tightened painfully on her forearm. With his right hand he grabbed the back of Ryou's sweater and hauled him, more or less, to his feet. Ryou was still comatose, a fact for which Téa was grateful, given the scene that had just taken place.

"We'll all go in at the same time," the Spirit explained brusquely to Tea, propelling all three of them towards the gateway's soft light. "What I told the runt was true, more or less. We can't be certain of the pathway staying put once you go through."

They now stood right in front of the portal. Though from a distance, its light was dim, up close, it was overwhelming intense after the perpetual gloom they'd been slogging through. The light dominated Tea's vision, banishing the rest of this infernal dimension to black patches welling up in her peripheral vision. She shivered. The light was almost more frightening than the darkness had been. She felt terribly exposed—and completely blind. If something came up behind her now…

She wouldn't think about it. She grit her teeth and pushed the prickling feeling at the back of her neck as far out of her mind as she could. Oddly, the Spirit's steely grip on her arm was almost comforting. At least anything that tried to come after her would have to go through him first.

"I'll give you a little shove forward," the Spirit told her, his gaze fixed ahead, "and I'll try to slow us down a little."

Tea frowned, confused. "Why?"

Bakura sighed, clearly exasperated at having to spell everything out for her. "You'll want a head start, obviously. I know I said the boy was head over heels for you, but even he's not besotted enough not to question why you're in front of him half-dressed. If you want to seduce him properly, you'll need a fresh start." He made a face. "And a shower might not be a bad idea. You did sleep in all your clothes last night."

Tea couldn't even muster a glare at this less-than-gallant comment. She was too stunned by his matter-of-fact explanation. _I can't believe we're discussing this, _she thought. Well, they weren't exactly _discussing_ it. _She_ hadn't said anything, after all. But the casual way Bakura was talking about it was nothing short of surreal. Suddenly, she had to suppress the urge to indulge in a hysterical giggle.

The Spirit nudged her forward, into the light. Cold tingles washed over her legs, creeping steadily up her spine. It was almost as if she was dissolving into the light. The thought sent a burst of panic through her belly, and she would have bolted if it weren't for Bakura's firm grip restraining her. "Relax," he told her. "Just keep going into the light."

Tea forced herself to breathe and the panic ebbed to a bearable level. The tingling sensation enveloping her was still unsettling, but now she was feeling a different sensation along with it… a kind of yearning. An urge to go deeper and deeper into the light, until she was completely immersed in it. Her feet edged forward.

The Spirit nodded, satisfied. "Good. Get going now." For an instant, his hold on her slackened, and she almost slipped away, but in the next instant, he pulled her tight against him. He brought his face close to hers, his oxblood eyes burning into hers. "Do not forget our bargain," he growled in a low, menacing tone. "I will keep my end of it, make no mistake about that."

Before Tea could do more than stare at him, all the breath sucked from her lungs, he released her arm and flung her forward. "Now, go!" He gave her a shove on the rear end.

Tea stumbled forward. The light filled her entire vision as the tingling sensation intensified. _Now I know how a bottle of Coke feels when it gets shook up,_ Tea thought dizzily. All of her was effervescent, icy bubbles dancing wildly, though painlessly. Then, in one shattering instant, the cap came off and all of her fizzy self came shooting out of the bottle and into solid being.

* * *

><p>Her head swam. Everything was too bright, too vivid, too real. Her eyes closed, then opened, blinking over and over as she tried to regain her bearings. Gradually, her senses adjusted and came slinking back to her. The air smelled musty, with hints of Lysol and dry-erase markers, chilly as it slid over her bare skin. Worn, industrial carpet prickled under her knees. Patches of color in her vision solidified and became bright posters plastered on drab, off-white walls.<p>

Her breath escaped in her in a sigh of relief. The portal had worked. She was back.

Tea lost no time in scrambling to her feet. She glanced around the empty classroom, re-orienting herself. She pulled up short when she saw Ryou's body slumped on the floor less than foot away from her. His shirt and jacket were both off, and he was wearing his dark blue uniform pants, instead of the jeans she'd last seen him in, but otherwise he looked so similar to how he'd appeared in those last minutes in the Shadow Realm that her breath caught. She bent over him, shaking him gently. His eyes stayed closed, and he was just as unresponsive as before. A good thing, she realized belatedly, looking down at herself. Below the waist, she was neatly dressed in her uniform skirt, neatly belted as always, white knee socks, and loafers. Above the waist, she was completely nude. The Spirit's snide comment about her state of undress echoed in her head, and, much to her annoyance, she had to admit he was right—about this at least. She couldn't let Ryou see her like this.

Frantically, she scoured the room until she found her bra, cotton undershirt, and pink jacket and scooped them up in her arms. In her frazzled state, every second seemed an eternity, but it was really the work of a moment. She was out the door and halfway down the hallway when a horrible thought dawned over her. _What about Ryou?_ Her stomach plummeted. Surely, he'd wonder on awakening why he was shirtless and not tied up the way he'd been before the Spirit took over.

She didn't have time to re-dress fully, but she pulled the undershirt on, just in case the Spirit didn't slow Ryou down quite enough, and hurried back into Ms. Evans' classroom. Adrenaline pulsed in her veins as she snatched up Ryou's undershirt and uniform jacket off the floor where they had been fallen. She leaned over Ryou. The Millennium Ring gleamed dully around his neck. Tea's breath caught. Her fingers itched to rip it off his neck and chuck it out the window. But that hadn't done any good before and she was too afraid to touch it for fear it would pull her back into the Shadow Realm—or worse, trap Ryou inside it forever. After a few agonizing seconds of indecision, she decided to leave it be.

As carefully as possible, she pulled the thin white undershirt over his head and down over his torso. It was a delicate operation, and Tea was terrified that at any second Ryou's eyes would pop open. If he had actually been asleep like he looked, he almost certainly would have woken up. But sleep was not what held him still and quiet now, and so her clumsy fumblings did nothing to disturb him. Tea quickly realized the real enemy here was time. Tea didn't quite understand how the Spirit was delaying Ryou from returning to consciousness—and she was not at all sure she wanted to—and so there was no telling when the spell would be broken.

Abandoning all her efforts to be careful in favor of speed, Tea dragged the dark blue uniform jacket around Ryou's shoulder, stuffing his arms down the sleeves. It wasn't an easy process; Tea had dressed her fair share of baby dolls and Barbies in her day, but a full-sized living, breathing human with limp, fleshy limbs was another matter entirely. But at last she got the jacket on, pretty neatly, she thought, and fastened the long row of buttons. There. He looked presentable now.

She got to her feet and half-carried, half-dragged Ryou to the principal's chair. She hauled him onto it and arranged him in a sitting position. She didn't bother to fasten all the cords and ties that Bakura had left littered around the wheelbase. Ryou was obviously aware that the Spirit had taken him over; it wouldn't be a shock to discover he'd gotten out of his bounds in the bargain. In any event, since the restraints would clearly not hold Bakura, there was no reason to inflict them on Ryou.

At last, as satisfied with her work as the panicky pounding of her heart would allow, Tea hurried out of the room, mouthing a final "Sorry" in the unconscious Ryou's direction. Now to get away before he woke up. She didn't want him to realize she hadn't listened to his advice about lingering around the Spirit, and she didn't want to answer the awkward questions that would inevitably result. Not to mention that she wasn't exactly presentable right now. Tea paused only to scoop up the rest of her clothes off the floor of the hallway, and then she was hustling down the stairs—one flight, two flights, three. She'd have to face Ryou sooner or later, she knew. But not until she was fully dressed and not until she had sorted out exactly what she planned to do about Bakura's ultimatum.

She felt slightly nauseous just thinking about it. How could the Spirit demand such a thing of her, like she was some kind of cheap whore? She swallowed, remembering how Ryou had wanted to leave the Spirit behind in the Shadow Realm. She'd actually stopped him. She'd actually argued that it would be immoral to leave him, as if the very notion of morality even applied to a being of pure evil like Bakura. How could she—even for a second—dreamed that there was something _heroic_ in the way he'd made her and Ryou run for safety, taking on the shadow demon himself? How could she have imagined that someone like Bakura could have even a _glimmer _of goodness about him?

And now, because she hadn't had the sense to run when she'd had the chance, she was in this impossible situation. Her arms tightened around the bundle of clothes she carried. Did the Spirit_ really _imagine she would seduce Ryou just on his say-so?

The memory of his menacing gaze blasted over her and she shivered. Yes, yes he did. And for good reason, too.


	38. Chapter 38

A tiny, distant noise made Tea practically jump out of her skin. What was she _doing?_ She was just standing here in the middle of the hallway, her bra dangling from her arms. She might have put three stair flights of distance between her and Ryou, but that guaranteed her only a minute or two, nothing more. Pulse pounding, she dashed into the nearest open classroom. She winced as the door slammed shut behind her.

Tea hauled in a deep breath, trying to steady her jittery nerves. When her heart rate had slowed enough for Tea to hear over the pounding blood in her ears, she went to the door and listened carefully. Nothing. Tea let out her breath. It was probably the heating system she had heard, some ancient fan whirring to life. Nothing to worry about.

Not for the moment, anyway.

She couldn't go on sneaking around indefinitely. Ryou would wake up, sooner rather than later. When that happened, he _would_ look for her, and she _would_ have to face him. There was no getting around that. Instead of trying to figure out how to put that off, maybe she should be trying to figure out what she was going to do when it did happen. Tea squirmed at the very notion. She didn't have any idea what Ryou was thinking—what he knew, what he'd guessed, what Bakura had given away. She didn't know how much he'd be willing to forgive. And she wasn't at all sure she could even face him, whether to beg for that forgiveness or to hid the truth at all costs. All she knew was that when she pictured Ryou's face, her heart started going a million miles a minute and her gut wrenched. Everything thought fled her skull except one: Bakura's ultimatum.

She bit down hard on the inside of her lip. The sharp pain helped her focus. Her thudding pulse slowed and her breath evened out. It didn't matter, Tea told herself firmly. It wasn't like she was actually going to follow the Spirit's dictates. She wasn't. At least…

No. She wasn't doing that. It wasn't an option.

But was she prepared for the consequences?

Her clothes fell out of her arms and onto the floor as Tea buried her hands in her hair, fingers digging into her scalp. Her heartbeat was racing again, and she could feel the adrenaline burning in her veins. But this time, there was no physical release for the tension inside of her. There was nothing she could do to change the situation. Her body screamed to run or fight, but neither was an option. Well, if Bakura actually tried to make good on his threat, she'd do her best, but she already knew it was a lost cause. She was trapped inside this building—unless she wanted to brave the snowstorm in a minskirt—and the Spirit of the Ring had already demonstrated that he was more than capable of physically restraining her. The memory of that horrible snake-thing he had set out of her brushed across her mind. For a second, she could feel its cold, leathery scales digging into her flesh. She shuddered. Even worse was the certain knowledge that a Venom Boa was far from the worst that Bakura's magic could inflict if he so chose.

Tea supposed if she was really proactive, if she was willing to strike preemptively, she might be able to do something, but she was inside a school. There were no guns, no knives, no conventional weapons of any kind. Besides, any damage she did to the Spirit would also be done to Ryou. Bruised shins and black eyes were one thing, but she knew full well that wouldn't deter Bakura. The kind of things that would—a pencil to the eye, a sharp blade to the crotch, a hard hit to the head—were exactly the things that she couldn't do to Ryou. This wasn't his fault. Hadn't he suffered enough?

Her thoughts did nothing to slow the pounding of her pulse or the churning in her gut. This was all too much. She needed time to sort it all out. Surely, if she only had a chance to think, she'd come up with something.

She had four hours. No, less now. Probably three hours and fifty-three minutes, or something like that. Tea's lip curled in a humorless smile. She needed a countdown timer. A doomsday clock.

All the sudden, all the nervous energy drained out of her, and she realized she was exhausted. She leaned back against the door of the classroom, her head insupportably heavy. Her arms hung limply at her sides. She could just stay here in this room forever, she thought. That wouldn't be so bad. It was quiet here. And dark. She could just let herself crumble to the floor and let the world figure itself out on its own.

No, she couldn't.

Groaning, Tea forced herself upright. She couldn't stay here, tempting as it was. She did, however, need to make herself presentable before Ryou caught up with her. Reluctantly, she began to peel her undershirt back over her head so she could re-dress herself, properly this time. But as she did so, she caught a whiff of her stale, sweaty self. Her deodorant had definitely worn off more than a few hours ago. She thought about the way she probably looked—not just the wrinkled, half-on, day-old clothes, but the smudged makeup, the greasy, tousled hair, and all the rest of her less-than-fresh self. She grimaced. The Spirit _had_ said she could use a shower. As much as she hated to admit it…

She prayed this would be the** last** thing he'd be right about.

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><p>Re-entry was never fun.<p>

Dull pain thudded in the recesses of his skull. Ryou opened his eyes, blinking groggily in the dingy fluorescent light of the classroom. The light only mde his headache worse. He rubbed absently at his temples, more out of habit than because it would help. It didn't. His limbs felt a little heavier, a little more awkward than normal. They always seemed to, after he'd been away from his body for a bit. It was as if they'd gotten used to the Spirit of Ring, and had to readjust to his control. He scowled. It was his body. So why did he have to struggle into it like a thrift-store find while the Spirit slipped it on like Armani? Just another one of the manifold injustices of being Ryou Bakura.

With a sigh, Ryou took stock of his surroundings. He was back where his last conscious memories of the real world had ended—Ms. Evans' classroom. Just like before, he was sitting on Principal Burke's chair, arms propped up on the leather armrests, feet brushing against the plastic wheelbase. But he quickly realized that the restraints that Tea had carefully fastened were gone. He sprang up out of the chair, almost knocking it over in his haste.

He didn't have to look hard to discover what had become of them. They were littered across the stubbly carpet all around the chair.

Ryou groaned inwardly. Just what had he expected? He looked down at his hands, remembering the way his fingers had known how to pick the lock in the library yesterday, how they'd untangled the hopelessly snarled knots in Amane's favorite locket when he'd found the necklace stashed in one of his dad's old coat pocket, how they'd picked other locks and undone other knots in the past year or so. Had he really thought it was luck, or a hidden talent, or…whatever? His stomach clenched. It was muscle memory, pure and simple. Just not his memories.

There was no time to dwell on his own stupidity in thinking the bindings would hold the Spirit of the Ring. It was more important to figure out what else the Spirit had done besides freeing him. Ryou's brow furrowed. From the fact that he was sitting in the chair, it would seem that he hadn't done anything else. But that couldn't be right, could it? Ryou dug a hand into his mass of white hair. Just how long had the Spirit been in control of his body?

His eyes shot to the clock that hung over the classroom's doorway. It was a minute or two shy of 2:15. But the time didn't tell him much. He'd been so long out of its framework that he had to struggle just to re-orient himself to his place in it. He wasn't sure about what time it had been before the Spirit took over, but he knew they hadn't eaten lunch yet. Maybe 11:30-ish? That made roughly three hours that he'd been out of his body. But he couldn't assume that the Spirit had been in control of it for that long. In fact, it was pretty certain that he hadn't. After all, the three of them had all been the Shadow Realm for a while—there was no telling how long. Ryou let out a long sigh. Their little excursion to the Shadow Realm could have taken anywhere from half an hour to the entire three hour period.

Maybe, Ryou thought optimistically, the very second that the Spirit had undone the last cord, he'd been whisked into the shadows—before he'd had a chance to wreak any havoc in his body.

As soon as the thought rose in his mind, it deflated. The way Bakura had talked about being brought into the Shadow Realm—the way he'd blamed Tea—it had sounded like he had been there, in the room with Tea when it had happened. And of course, there were the other things he'd said… Ryou had tried so hard to ignore the Spirit's implications. The Spirit lied, he knew that. Worse, he twisted the truth to suit his own ends. He was good at it, but Ryou knew better than to take him at his word. But Tea…the way the color had risen in her cheeks, the way her eyes had become glued to the floor…His gut twisted. That was much, much harder to ignore.

He remembered the way the Spirit had watched Tea, the blatant lust dripping from his eyes. He remembered the way that he'd pulled Tea into his arms and kissed her with an almost practiced effortlessness. His cheeks burned, but he felt cold, like his insides had turned to ice.

But Tea had shoved the Spirit away. Tea had railed at him and threatened him. She'd acted like anything but the Spirit's willing lover. And it had been Ryou that she'd defended, more than once. It had been Ryou she'd called her boyfriend.

The tightness in Ryou's chest eased just a little, but he couldn't relax completely. Something had happened while he was "out." He'd have to be an idiot not to realize that. The only question was what.

Ryou tried hard to remember everything the Spirit had said. It wasn't easy, considering how much of it he'd been trying to ignore. Between the barbs and innuendos, what actually information had he let slip? Not much. Some comments implying they'd spent time together, a few insinuations that something physical had happened between them, and a couple very definite accusations that Tea was responsible for all three of them getting sucked into the Shadow Realm. In fact, hadn't the Spirit said something about Tea touching the Millennium Ring?

Automatically, Ryou's fingers went to to his chest. The Ring was still there—the cold, hard shape of it sensible beneath his jacket. The weight of it hung around his neck like a millstone. So much for hoping Tea'd had the Ring in the course of trying—futilely, of course—to get ride of it once and for all. Or maybe she had and the Spirit had just managed to retrieve it before being whisked off to the shadows.

Ryou leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to remember the last thing that had happened before the Spirit had invaded his consciousness. At first, there was just a blank, then…heat. The scent of Tea's skin, vanilla honeysuckle drifting lazily over his senses. The warmth of her teasing, tantalizing touch. The staccato pounding of his heart in his chest. The slide of her hot, silken lips across his. The indescribably sweetness of her mouth.

A shiver of pure longing shuddered through Ryou, even as the sensual memories faded out into the empty oblivion that he knew was when the Spirit had severed him from reality. He tugged at his jacket collar. It wasn't the only thing that suddenly felt too tight. He swallowed hard. Damn the Spirit for pulling him out of that. Who knew what would have happened if he hadn't ended it so abruptly.

Slowly, a cold realization forced its way past the hot blood coursing through his brain. It had ended…for him. But what about Tea? When had _she_ realized what the Spirit had done?

In an instant, Ryou's blood froze, and then just as quickly thawed under the searing tide of raw anger. So **that** was the meaning of all of the Spirit's innuendos and knowing looks. **That** was why Tea had blushed and glowered and hadn't met his eyes. No doubt that was how she came to be touching the Millennium Ring, too.

His jaw clenched. It was bad enough that the Spirit had stolen the rest of that kiss from him. It was bad enough that he'd touched Tea at all. But for the Spirit to use him this way, to use a real moment between him and Tea to further his own sick seduction schemes…it was a violation worse than any Ryou had ever felt before.

It couldn't happen again. Determination swelled in Ryou's chest, even as crushing pain filled it. He'd rather never know Tea's touch again than to let the Spirit use his guise that way. His throat felt too tight and he swallowed hard over a hot lump. The idea was wrenching, but at the same time, Ryou knew he'd never feel safe kissing Tea again, touching her, holding her, while all the time knowing in the back of his head that the Spirit could take his place at any second. The back of his eyes burned. He wasn't sure if he could actually protect Tea from the Spirit, even if he did his best to stay away from her. But he _was_ sure that if he didn't, he would never forgive himself for the consequences.

He should just go. The idea thudded dully through his consciousness. He should just head out the door and make for home, damn the snow and cold. If he made it safely through the storm, then well and good. He'd just have make sure that he never let himself be alone with Tea ever again. He squeezed his hands into fists. And if he didn't make it, then that was just as well. Tea would never have anything to fear from him ever again.


	39. Chapter 39

A/N: Ryou gets a little metaphysical in this chapter. Just want to clarify that Ryou's thoughts/beliefs are his and not necessarily my own. Also, a little dash of citrus towards the end.

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><p>Ryou's jaw ached from the tension that gripped his whole body. Should he stay or should he go? He felt like he was being torn in two pieces. On the one hand, he couldn't stay. It was too dangerous for Tea. Every second he delayed was one that the Spirit could use to seize control of him. On the other hand, how could he just leave? Tea wouldn't even know what had happened to him. She might think he'd never come out of the Shadow Realm. If she believed what the Spirit had told her, she would probably blame herself for trapping him a hellish nightmare dimension. If he came out of the storm alright, then he could try to explain, but she'd probably be furious with him for scaring her like that and hurt that he'd left at all. Ryou sucked in a deep breath. That was okay. Good, even. It would be for the best if she was so hurt and angry that she never wanted to see him again.<p>

But what if he _didn't_ make it out of the storm?

Ryou closed his eyes and pictured Tea having to hear the news that he'd frozen to death out in the storm. Just imagining the pain that would shudder through her almost ripped him apart. She'd blame herself for that, too. She wouldn't be under any illusions about why he'd abandoned the safety and warmth of the school building. Tea was a sensitive, tenderhearted girl—it was one of the reasons he cared about her so much. She took things personally. She felt things deeply. If Ryou died tonight, she might never forgive herself. Could he really do that to her?

Ryou stood there for a long moment, caught between two terrible choices. Which was the lesser of the two evils? He hoped that personal cowardice didn't color his decision, but he couldn't be sure that it didn't. Ryou'd never thought of himself as particularly brave. And for all his moribund obsession with death, he was as afraid of his own mortality as anyone else. Probably more. After all, despite everything, no matter how much of his life resembled a waking nightmare, he'd never really considered suicide—at least not for more than a few minutes, here and there.

If he was trying to make himself seem noble, Ryou could have said that he wanted to make sure that when he did die, he was reunited with his sister, but he knew that wasn't quite it. Ryou wasn't really religious. There were only two things he really believed, deep down. One, was that there had to be some kind of existence after life—because how else could an ancient spirit infest his soul? Two, was that Amane was in heaven now—because if he didn't hold on to that, there was nothing but a straitjacket and white padded walls in his future. Questioning why a God like the one he hoped had gathered his sister up to some wonderful place allowed a being of pure evil like the Ring Spirit to exist at all was one of the reasons why Ryou didn't like to think too much about religion.

No, the reasons why Ryou had never given in to the darker impulses that whispered to him had less to do with belief and more to do with doubt. He might trust with every fiber of his being that his pure-hearted sister's soul had been heaven-bound, but what about his own? Even if whatever celestial judge weighed his soul discounted the blood and black magic that stained it, there was precious little of his life that wasn't a mess of cowardice and deception, guilt and shame. No, as much as Ryou wished for it, he very much doubted he'd ever see Amane again. He just wasn't heaven material.

Still, if he could be assured of a swift, cool descent into oblivion, into eternal, painless nothingness, he might still have done it. But nothing was sure. And Ryou'd had enough hell in this life to dread it in the next. So his heart kept beating. His blood stayed in his veins. "Where there's life, there's hope," his grandmother used to say. But Ryou knew it was fear, not hope that held him in check. He'd never been desperate enough to risk such a leap in the dark.

Not until now.

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><p>Why was the girls' locker room always so cold? Tea shivered as she slipped off her pink blazer. She folded it and laid it neatly on the bench. These were the only clothes she had—even if they weren't the cleanest and she was heartily sick of wearing them—so she had to be careful with them. She'd picked the bench on the far side of the showers, a good distance away from the shower she was planning on using, so there wasn't a chance her clothes would get misted on. She had the entire locker room to herself, after all. There was no reason not to take advantage of it.<p>

Carefully, she reached in the shower and turned on the water, jumping back to avoid the icy spray. As she waited for the water to heat up, she slowly finished undressing. First, the loafers, and then the knee socks. She wiggled her toes and rubbed her aching feet. Next, she unbuckled that awful tight belt that went with the navy skirt. She stretched luxuriously at the sudden freedom of movement. A few buttons, and the skirt itself slid down her bare legs. She pulled the thin white cotton of her undershirt over her head, leaving her standing in only her underwear.

The water was finally running hot, and the steam from the shower was starting to warm the room. Téa reached behind her back for the clasp of her bra. She let out a long sigh as it hit the floor. Her panties followed just a few seconds later.

The tile was cold under Tea's bare feet. She shivered as she folded her discarded clothes and laid them out on the bench. Despite the trickle of steam coming from her shower, gooseflesh prickled all over her body, down her arms and legs, across the high crest of her breasts. She rubbed her arms up and down across her chest, but it barely helped.

Now completely bare, she stepped into the warm welcome of the shower. She closed her eyes and lifted her face as the hot water cascaded down her body. For the second, the assault of the hot water against her cold flesh was almost painful; then it gave way to delicious pleasure. A low moan escaped her, her body relaxing into the welcome warmth.

As the water flowed over her, it stripped away the grease and dirt, the grime of the last two days, and with it, the stress and anxiety that had dogged her. For a few blissful minutes, there was only water and steam, and the familiar acerbic floral smell of the cheap liquid soap from the school dispenser. Tea pushed this last detail out of her mind with relative ease. She was enjoying her shower far too much to worry about the lack of her usual Pantene products and honey-scented bodyscrub. Instead, she scooped up generous amounts of the watery pink shower gel and lathered it all over—legs, shoulders, neck, even her hair. She sighed as she leaned back into the warm cascade to rinse the suds from her skin.

Suddenly, an image stole across her mind, one so vivid that it felt almost real. She envisioned two pale hands reaching around her, caressing her skin, flushed and sensitive from the shower. Feather-light fingers lathed her skin, soap foaming beneath his touch as they trailed over her body, before coming to rest on her breasts. First, he washed them, with infinite care. Then, those soft pale hands tightened around them, iron cased in velvet. Tea let out a moan, her own hands reaching up to mimic the fantasy.

But her racing thoughts didn't end there. In her mind, those clever fingers twisted and curled around her tender flesh, playing games of exquisite pleasure. Her nipples puckered into taut peaks. And then… A long shivering sigh escaped her. Then, those warm, firm hands slid down her body, lower and lower until…

The feel of her own fingers between her thighs momentarily broke her out of the fantasy. She squirmed, suddenly overheated and uncomfortable. _Until **what,** Tea? _her thoughts seemed to mock her. And for that, she had no answer. Scientifically, of course, she knew what was involved. She'd had sex-ed, and paid it the same attention she'd given all her classes, even if all the snickering, grossed-out comments, and lewd jokes made that more difficult than usual. But the aseptic diagrams in the health textbook didn't even hint at what it might _feel _like, to be touched like that, to be entered, filled, made part of a whole. Her cheeks flushed hotter than they already were, but that didn't stop her rampant curiosity—or the other feeling that roiled inside of her, the sort of liquid yearning.

But who was that yearning for? Ryou…or Bakura?

The last of the suds trickled down the drain.


	40. Chapter 40

It wasn't like it would be suicide.

Suicide was the gun barrel against your temple. Suicide was the hard slide of the pills down your throat. Suicide was the hard crimson slash down your wrist. Suicide was the wind screaming against your skin instants before the impact.

Suicide was intentional. It was running up the white flag._ I surrender. I've had enough. I give up._ It was declaring that nothing on this earth was worth living for, that the most diabolical hells that awaited couldn't be more infernal than one more day in the miserable mess he called life.

This would be different. If he did go out into the snow, he wasn't intending to die, and it wasn't guaranteed that he would. This was no surrender. It was more of a tactical retreat, no, a forlorn hope. High in risk, but with a chance, no matter how small, at victory and success. Only, of course, a successful forlorn hope meant glory and great reward. He could hope for no such thing. Success in his case would mean days, weeks, maybe months or even years of avoiding the one person he most wanted to be with. A forlorn hope indeed.

Was that why the idea seemed so tempting? Did the idea of slowing freezing to death in a snowstorm actually seem more appealing than a life of making himself invisible just when Tea had begun to see him at last? The one took a short burst of courage, a few hours at most of self-sacrifice. The other would take a lifetime of it.

Ryou closed his eyes. He hauled in a deep breath and then opened them once more. There might be legitimate reasons to go through with this plan, but selfishness wasn't one of them. He would do what it took to keep Tea safe, but he wasn't going to take the easy way out. If he'd learned anything in the last five miserable years, it was just how hard death was on the living. He wasn't going to do that to Tea. Not if there was another way. He wasn't going to be selfish.

Leaving was a last resort. They weren't to that point yet. The first step—obvious when he stopped fantasizing about overblown dramatic gestures like some kind of Romeo wannabe—was to apply his "survival proviso" to right now: simply stay away from Tea. They hadn't tried that yet, not really. That had been part of the idea with their last scheme, but Tea had apparently never followed through on the leaving part. But the principle was still sound. And if Tea refused to cooperate—or the Spirit did—then that still left the storm as an option.

Ryou abruptly realized that he'd been wandering aimlessly through the hallways for who knew how long. He was now at the top of the staircase, absently picking at the chipping white paint on the handrail. He let out a sigh. He had to talk to Tea. He had to explain things to her, make her see reason. She had to understand that he couldn't be near her. She'd have to stay away from him and he from her for the rest of their time here. Something clenched painfully in his chest. Maybe for the rest of his life.

He couldn't think about that now. If he did, he'd lose his nerve. The important thing right now was talking to Tea. And for that, he needed to find her.

It was several minutes later, minutes so full of silence and empty rooms that Ryou had almost forgotten why he kept exploring floor after floor of the school, when he heard it. Somewhere, distantly, he heard water running. It took him a long time to process the sound and realize what it must mean. A shower. Someone was taking a shower. And considering that the school was abandoned, that someone had to be Tea.

He half-smiled at the randomness of it—and then glanced down at himself and realized the idea wasn't bad at all. He could probably stand some freshening up too. Besides, as long as Tea was in the shower, he wasn't going to be able to talk to her anyway. He might as well follow her example.

The sound of running water grew louder as Ryou headed towards the gym. The boy's locker room was just on the other side of the girls', presumably so they could take advantage of the same pipes. The painted cinderblock wall between them was too thick to allow conversation to pass, just a burble of water and words—though that didn't stop some of the guys from trying to eavesdrop on the girls they were certain were gossiping about them. Ryou wondered if any of the girls ever did the same.

Ryou glanced down the corridor that led to the girls' locker room. Somewhere, past those forbidden double doors and the rows of dingy lockers was Tea. An image of her, naked beneath the steamy spray, danced in his head for a few stunning seconds before he quickly banished the thought. That was exactly the kind of thing he couldn't allow himself to indulge in. For one thing, entertaining such less-than-pure thoughts of Tea was a surefire way to attract _his_ attention. For another, it was also a surefire way to crumble his own resolve to stay away from her.

Swallowing hard, Ryou jerked his gaze away from the double doors—and the delectable sight they hid—and hurried off down the adjoining corridor. Maybe he'd better make his a _cold _shower.

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><p>Hot water rained down, in a steady, soothing pitapat against the tiled floor. Tea's eyes closed as she ran her hairs through her wet hair, scrunching the strands through her fingers. As far as she could tell, the soap had all been rinsed out, although some of the strands squeaked between her fingers. Guess that meant it was time to get out. Her fingers were starting to turn pruney.<p>

But Tea didn't want to get out. Here, in this steamy cocoon, she was warm and safe. Safe from the outside world and the decision that loomed like an anvil above her head. Safe from the intense passions that scalded her from the inside out. Once she stepped outside the shower, she'd have to face reality once more. Was she prepared for it?

_You can't keep playing ostrich_, Tea told herself firmly. Part of her brain—the nerdy part that never shut and that Joey and Tristan never stopped teasing her about—reminded her that ostriches didn't really bury their heads in the sand to make themselves invisible to predators. It was just a misunderstanding of their behavior in swallowing sand and pebbles for use in their gizzards. The other part of her brain told the nerd part to shut up. She heaved a sigh and smiled at her own ridiculousness.

Thinking of Joey and Tristan interjected a much-needed dose of normalcy into her mind. It was sort of emotionally claustrophobic in here, shut up alone with Ryou and her own emotions. This big empty school was like an enormous echo chamber. It took everything she felt and pelted it back at her, over and over again, magnifying it each time. Now she was drowning in a cacophony so deafening she didn't even know what she thought, or felt, or even believed.

If you had asked her, Tea Gardner, Ordinary High School Student, on Thursday, if there was any chance that she would be seriously considering seducing Ryou Bakura and taking advantage of him in a carnal way, she would have laughed in your face. Actually no. She would have been too flabbergasted by the question to respond, and far too embarrassed to do anything as bold as laughing in someone's face. The most she would have been able to manage was a strangled titter.

What exactly had changed since two days ago was an open question. An extremely good question, too. Despite the romantic streak she'd maintained since childhood, Tea was enough of a rationalist to know that you didn't fall in love with someone in two days—not even if you were trapped in the same building all alone. Not even if they told you things they'd never told anyone else. Not even if you looked into their eyes and for the very first time, you believed the old saying that the eyes were the windows of the soul. Not even if they made you want to open your own windows and start semaphoring for dear life.

No, she hadn't fallen in love with Ryou. But _something_ was different. Her eyes opened and she stared up at the dingy grey ceiling tiles. She was calling him _Ryou_. No, more than that, she was calling him her _boyfriend_. Just thinking the word sent a tingle through her—nervousness, yes, but also excitement. Something had been set in motion, something that couldn't be stopped now. Tea tried to imagine going back to the way things had been back on Thursday. The casual way they'd exchanged polite nothings, a nod in the hallway, a "Hello" in class, or a "See you later" in the cafeteria, the way her eyes had glossed right over him, taking him in with the scenery without really seeing him. They'd been like two joggers out in the fog—vaguely conscious of another shape in the mist, but not seeing, not caring. She couldn't go back to that. It was impossible. She was aware of him in a new way. If they passed in the hallway now, their eyes would connect and she would _see_, if just a tiny peep, into the endless mystery that was Ryou Bakura. If he was hurt, she'd see that hurt, feel it come to rest on her own heart. If he was happy, she'd see that too. And she knew—knew deep in the very core of her—that she couldn't keep seeing him and go on like it meant nothing.

There was no way back. There was only forward.

Her chest tightened even as her belly fluttered. Forward wouldn't be frolicking through a sunny meadow of soft green grass. Forward meant trudging through a morass of awkwardness and confusion, and maybe even danger. It meant hacking through a dense thicket of tangled emotions and twisted desires. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. If her feelings for Ryou were still mysterious and perplexing, they were as simple as the cooking directions for a Poptart compared to what she felt for the Spirit of the Ring. She still didn't have the foggiest notion of how she could despise something with every fiber of her being, yet somehow melt beneath his touch. And did it have anything to do with the fact that it was still Ryou's body that touched her, Ryou's body that she was becoming increasingly aware of, or was it something else, something of the Spirit's own?

She didn't have any answers, only questions.

A ghost of a smile drifted over her lips. Mrs. Palmer, her fifth grade teacher, had liked to say that questions were only experiments waiting to be tested. She wasn't sure how Mrs. Palmer would have reacted to her words being applied in this situation, but she wasn't given any opportunity to ponder it. No sooner had the thought formed, then the lights overhead flickered once, and then cut out, leaving her standing in pitch darkness.


	41. Chapter 41

A/N: So sorry for the long lack of updates. Things got really crazy and I had to take a break from writing. However, it is the sweet summertime and I am back with more slightly citrus goodness. ^_^ Also, check out my profile for some info on the future of the story and for a new poll.

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><p>There was no thunderclap, no ominous thud, no dramatic crack of lightning, no foreshadowing of any kind. One minute, Ryou was standing in the dingy fluorescence of the boys' locker room, stripped down to his boxer shorts, the rest of his clothes in a pool at his feet, and the next, he was standing in complete blackness.<p>

"Whaaa?" he exclaimed, startled. He blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness. "Who turned the lights out?" In another second, he realized how stupid that was. There wasn't anyone here to turn the lights out, no one but Tea, and why on earth would she be sneaking up on him and shutting off the locker room lights? No one had turned the lights off, they'd done it on their own. Ryou had just switched them only a few minutes earlier, so it couldn't be some kind of automatic shutoff. That left power outage.

Ryou groaned. If they were lucky, it would just be a blown fuse. Maybe he could find the circuit box and reset the breaker…and hope he didn't explode the school or something in the process. He shuffled forward in the pitch black, hands spread in front of him like a zombie. The tile was cold under his bare feet, but thankfully not slick.

With infinitesimal care, he was about halfway to the door—he thought—when a high-pitched scream rocketed through the blackness. Ryou's heart slammed against his chest. Tea.

Forgetting his earlier caution, he dashed through the darkness, found the door, wrenched it open, and ran out into the hallway. It was every bit as dark as the locker room had been. His pulse hammered as he groped his way along the painted cinder block walls until he found a door, which he desperately hoped was the one to the girls' locker room. The door to Tea. He threw it open and hurdled headlong into the pitch black.

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><p>Everything was black. Tea hauled in a shaky breath. The world had collapsed to touch and sound. The warm water trickling down her face, the wet tile under her feet, the sound of spraying water, that was real. The rest was unknown.<p>

Tea put out a hand to touch the slick vinyl dividing wall, just to assure herself that it was still there. She still couldn't see it, but it was reassuring to feel its solid shape beneath her fingers.

Calm down, Tea, she told herself. The light bulb blew or something. Well, okay, it wasn't very likely that every single bulb in the entire locker room had gone out at once—not unless it was the harbinger of something a lot worse than old bulbs—but maybe it was the fuse. She groaned. With their luck, some snow-laden tree had probably toppled over onto a power line. They were actually lucky that the power hadn't gone down earlier. "Great," she muttered. "Just great. Just what our little staycation needed—a nice power outage to complicate our lives and take away the last few comforts we were clinging to, like heating, refrigerated foods, and hot showers."

If Tea didn't already believe in jinxes, she would have started believing, because the very instant the words hot shower took shape in her mind, the water that rained down from the showerhead was no longer warm, but instead liquid ice. She let out a shriek of pure shock and shut off the water as quickly as she could.

"Great, guess that was the last of the heated water," she groused. Glacial water dripped from the ends of her hair onto her shoulders and chest. She flung back the shower curtain and groped for her towel. Her fingers met nothing but vinyl and cinder blocks. Crap. She'd hung the towel by the next shower over. A clever idea when her biggest concern was keeping it dry, but not so brilliant now that the locker room had been blacked out. She nearly tripped over the edge of the shower, but caught herself in time. After a little more fumbling, her hands connected with the scratchy terrycloth of the school towels. She let out a sigh of relief.

Instantly, she froze again as a noise caught her ears. She snatched up the towel, wrapping it around herself as rapidly as possible. Curse this penny-pinching school and their cheap, tiny towels! Slowly, she inched forward, listening intently for more noises. It didn't take her long to hear them—pounding footsteps, coming right toward her! Her heart leapt into her throat. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She moistened her lips and tried again. "W-who's there?"

"Tea?" Ryou's voice, loud and frantic. And close. Unexpectedly close. In the tiny illumination that crept in from some distant emergency light in the hall, she could just make out his shape careening towards her, only a few feet away. "Thank heavens! Are you alright? When I heard the scream I was so worr—" The rest of his words were lost in the sudden squeal and slosh of water as he skidded through a puddle of water and lost his balance—and crashed right into Tea, knocking her to the floor.

For a second, they just lay there, the wind knocked out of them both. For a second, there was just cool darkness and the sound of breath coming back to lungs, and the weight of their bodies and the heat of their skin. And then, slowly, Ryou began to groan and shift, and Tea was suddenly extremely aware of just how little skin that cheap school towel covered and what a thin, flimsy piece of cloth it was.

His chest was bare; his legs were too. It didn't occur to Tea to question this sartorial decision. She was too busy pondering the scrap of terrycloth that was the only barrier between their bodies. The warmth of him soaked through the fabric, relegating the damp chill of the locker room to a distant backdrop. Every rise and fall of his chest as his breath came back to him in gasps echoed through her own body, pressing them relentlessly together.

His palm came to rest on the tile just beside her head. Gingerly, he began to push himself up and off of her. The movement rippled through the rough terrycloth, friction sending electric currents through her skin. An incoherent noise escaped her.

"Great Scott," muttered Ryou. He sounded utterly mortified. "I am so, so sorry, Tea. I didn't mean—I mean this is, this situation…" Words tumbled out of his mouth, but Tea couldn't seem to make any sense out of them. The only salient point seemed to be that Ryou was getting up. He was leaving her. And she couldn't let him do that.

Before her superego could stop her, her hand shot out and seized his shoulder. He froze, momentarily stunned. She wished she could read his expression, but it was too dark. Sensation was stronger than sight here. The heat that emanated from his skin, the pulse that skittered in her veins, that was the only reality now.

"T-tea?"His voice was startled, strained, but underneath the shock and the embarrassment, she could hear it, the echo of the same thrum that rushed through her blood, that danced through her skin. Her eyes slid shut—there was nothing to see, anyway—and she shifted her weight, rolling on top of him in a single, swift, if less than fluid, movement.

"Tea?" he echoed again. "W-what—"

She silenced him with a kiss.


	42. Chapter 42

A/N: In response to a question from last chapter, no, Bakura isn't Scottish, but the expression "Great Scott" is a British one (I first picked it up from the Chronicles of Narnia), and Bakura used it a couple of times in the first season, so I use it in the story. Now, on to the story.

Reader warning: We are definitely in lime territory here. The rating will probably go up soon.

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><p>If Ryou Bakura was ever to write a memoir about this weekend, he would call it "The Days of Impossible Things," he decided. That was, it if didn't turn out that he was lying in a coma in some hospital dreaming all this up. He couldn't even count how many things had happened to him in the course of the previous 36 hours that were just beyond all likelihood. There was that game of truth and dare that had ended with a kiss… the private dancing lessons… the time when Tea'd tied him up… their little field trip to the Shadow Realm… and now this. He and Tea, alone in the darkness, only a few scraps of cloth between them. So close that it would have been easier than blinking to kiss her. So close that he could feel her heart thundering in her chest.<p>

And then she was touching him. Now she was pushing him back, and shifting her weight onto his, and now she was straddling him and leaning down, and he thought he could glimpse a smile in the faint ghost of light that illuminated their figures.

And then, he couldn't even think because her mouth was on his and everything in the whole world, in the history of the entire universe was melting into a puddle of pure bliss.

Lightning coursed through her veins with every breath, every touch. Her fingers dug into the mass of white locks at the base of Ryou's skull, pulling him, closer, closer. But there was no closer. Their bodies were pressed together, legs entwined on the wet tile. One of his arms encircled her waist, anchoring her to him, while his free hand roved over her face, now cupping her cheek, now brushing over her dripping tresses, now exploring the delicate curve where her jaw melted into her neck. She gave a little moan and attacked his lips with savage ferocity, as if determined to sear the taste and feel of him onto her senses for all eternity. Ryou jolted beneath her, but quickly responded in kind. His fingers gripped the curve of her hip almost painfully, but the burn of pleasure was too bright for her to care.

At last, she came up for air, leaving Ryou panting beneath her. His gasps were almost musical to her ears. With a wanton smile, she traced the line of his jaw as it connected with the curve of his earlobe. Her own breathing was labored. With every heave of her chest, the thin terrycloth that covered it stretched, the knot that held it up straining precariously. It would take so little… just one sharp tug…to free it completely.

The thought was intoxicating and overwhelming all at once. But Tea wasn't ready for that, not yet. Nor was she ready for the hard ridge between Ryou's legs, though she could feel it pressing against her. Instead, she relaxed into the warmth of Ryou's chest, letting the heat seep into the spaces between them. Ryou made a sound that was halfway between a groan and a sigh as her breasts molded into the hard planes of his chest.

The darkness nestled around them. It wasn't the pitch-blackness of before; her eyes had adjusted to the little light that there was. She could see him, but only faintly. Beyond him was only shapeless shadows, as if the world itself did not exist. The darkness made every sensation more intense. A kiss was electrifying, but even a simple touch was exhilarating.

She ran just the tip of her finger over the soft hairs of Ryou's arm and marveled at the fireworks that blossomed through her skin. Her fingers wandered over the muscles of his shoulder—not bulging, but well-defined—and then into the crook of his neck. He let out a strangled breath and shifted under her. An unexpected crest of sensation rushed over her and suddenly, her her languorous exploration was over and the fierce hunger was back. Now the effervescent rush of running her fingers across his collarbone was not enough, not nearly enough. She wanted—needed—more, and she needed it now.

She lunged for his mouth, claiming it in an ecstatic frenzy of lips and tongues. Though taken aback for the briefest of seconds, Ryou quickly caught her fire and soon his kiss was as fiery and demanding as hers. She gripped his shoulder tightly, as if to keep him from escaping. But escaping was the last thing on Ryou's mind. His hand caressed her hip, the rough texture of the towel throwing every movement into sharp relief. Then, it slid lower, finding nothing but bare flesh. Her gasp was lost in his kiss as his fingers swept over the sensitive skin at the back of her thigh, just above the knee. Gradually, his touch rose higher and higher, slipping around her leg until he was stroking her inner thigh and she was moaning into his mouth. She clutched at him in a frenzy of desire, and then, with sudden, swift abandon, at the knot of the towel.

The cloth was still wet and the knot had been pulled tight. It did not come free easily as Tea had imagined, with one good pull. She snatched at it , clawed at it, considered ripping the cloth instead. But then it did give way, unfolding like a flower. The white folds of terry cloth slipped down her body, pooling at her hips where she straddled Ryou. Cold air suffused her bare skin, momentarily blowing back the heat of passion. She looked down at Ryou. He was staring up at her, an expression of wonder transfixing his face. Slowly, almost reverently, he reached up to touch the soft white skin of her breasts. Tea closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure.

"I wish I could see you," he whispered hoarsely. "Properly, I mean. I want to see every inch of you."

His words tingled over her skin, more potent than even his touch. They were the first words that had been spoken since their bodies connected and, though barely louder than a whisper, they seemed to fill the room. Even as they wove a powerful magic of their own, they broke the spell that had been cast. Before, they had been been urged along by blind passion, throwing themselves headlong down the trail of fire without thought or plan. No longer. Their eyes met. Pure awareness shot between them.

A tremor ran down Tea's spine. _Decision point_, she thought. Was she really going to do this? She groped for the fog of desire that had impelled her without thought, but it dissipated completely. As it did, all the doubts and considerations that had been shoved to the farthest recesses of her mind came back to her. What was Ryou to her? She'd called him her boyfriend, and she'd meant it, but what did that mean? Was _this_ how they were? Was it how she wanted them to be? And throughout this chorus of question hissed the insidious ultimatum that the Spirit of the Ring had handed to her. _You can offer yourself freely to Ryou…or I'll take you for myself—by force if necessary. _

A chill seeped through her, one that came not from the cold damp of the locker room, but from inside of her. This was not a choice to be made from fear, she knew, but from love. But which was stronger within her? Which was the true emotion, the true reason? She stared down into Ryou's brown eyes, at his expression, obscure in the dim light, and she wished the world was different. She wished _this_ was different. Oh, she just wished she _knew_.

But this was the world, the life, the choice she had. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Was it so wrong that she wanted her first time to be with someone who adored her, to be a thing of loving and giving, not some brutal, lustful thing wrenched from her by an inhuman thing with scorn in his eyes? And she knew, without words, without question, that Ryou loved her. Maybe that was enough. Maybe his love was enough for both of them.

"Is everything okay?" Ryou asked hesitantly. His fingers quivered as they lingered on her breast. She trembled—whether it was a tremble of desire, of fear, or of something altogether different, she did not know.

Her lips curved into the semblance of a smile. "Of course," she whispered against his skin as she brushed her lips across his cheek. "Of course."


	43. Chapter 43

He wanted to freeze that moment in his memory for all time: Tea, framed in shadow, completely bare, her pale skin almost luminescent in the dim light, bending over him, her lips parted with sweet desire in her eyes. If ever he had to choose but a single second of his life to keep, the rest to throw away, he would choose that instant, immediately and without hesitation. For that second, the universe was a place of unimaginable wonder and harmony and his was the wonderful life of all to live.

But the next second, as her lips descended, as her beautifully bare breasts brushed across his chest, as the heat and pleasure rushed over him, the guilt and the fear he had tried to bury all rose up and swam before his eyes. Her kiss was sweet—indescribably sweet—but he could only taste the sickness in it, the sickness of his own conscience. He'd intended to talk to Tea, to convince her that they had to stay apart. That was the only way to protect her from the Spirit of the Ring. It was the only way she could be safe. How had he lost sight of that so quickly? How had he let himself grow so captivated by her touch that he had forgotten that he was the one she should fear above all others?

Tea's hand slid down the side of his rib cage, pausing only when it encountered the waistband of his boxers. He hadn't gotten around to taking those off before he'd gone running off towards the sound of her voice. He inhaled raggedly. Thank the stars for that, anyway. If he was as completely naked as she was, it would be utterly impossible for him to…

His thoughts sputtered and stalled as her fingers brushed over the prominent bulge that jutted between his legs. _Oh…damn. _He could only groan in pleasure as her hand stilled, and then gently squeezed.

"Do you like that?" she asked shyly. Her voice was soft and husky; her hands were velvet as they caressed his skin. She was perfect, everything he wanted…and couldn't have.

He struggled to speak, but before he could manage it, her mouth slanted over his. He couldn't bring himself to resist this one last taste of her, although he could already catch a tang of sour regret. But it was not just their lips that joined, not just their tongues that tangled as they drank deep of desire. Her fingers ventured under the waistband; her hand slid down and curled around the white-hot, _unbearably_ rigid epicenter of his lust.

Ryou couldn't speak, couldn't even _breathe_. An incoherent noise spilled out of him, buzzing against Tea's lips. She pulled away slightly, rising over him, a half-smile curving her lips, her eyes shining with some unreadable emotion. "Ryou," she whispered, and his name had never sounded more beautiful, never sounded so tragic.

With every single ounce of strength in his soul, he pulled away, sliding out from underneath her. "No," he groaned, shaking his head. "I…I c-can't…"

Confusion filled Tea's face. She settled back on her knees, naked and lovely. "Did…did I do something wrong?"

There was hurt in her voice, along with the nervousness and the confusion, and it cut Ryou to the quick. "No, of course not," he said quickly.

"Then…why?" She shook her head, not understanding.

Ryou let out a sigh as he got to his feet. "It's not safe," he tried to explain. "The Spirit of the Millennium Ring…"

Instantly, her eyes went to his bare chest. "The Ring," she echoed in tones of surprise. "I didn't even realize…Where is it?"

"With the rest of my clothes," he told her. "I took it off; I was going to shower…but that's not the point." He shut his eyes, finding it impossible to focus when she was kneeling there in front of him, offering her body like a gift. "Doing…this…doing _anything_ is like an invitation for the Spirit to come." His eyes flickered open and sought hers, willing her to understand. "He wants you. You have to understand this."

She lowered her gaze. "Yeah, I know," she murmured.

But Ryou didn't see how she could possibly understand the danger she was in. She didn't seem startled enough, or frightened, or put off by his words. So he tried again, more forcefully this time. "He gets his way, Tea. He _always_ gets his way." His hands balled at his sides. "I'm not strong enough to stop him. I've tried. So many times."

Now Tea did react, stiffening, her face pale and sober. "But I still don't understand why…"

He took a deep breath. "The Spirit must know that you would never…be with him of your own volition." He paused, biting his lip. "But if I was involved with you, and then he pretended to be me, and you didn't know the difference, at least at first…"

"Oh." Understanding flickered in Tea's eyes. "I see." And it seemed, at last, that she really did see. But then she said. "But he wouldn't do that…that's not what he said…"

Now it was Ryou's turn to be confused, to blink and stare without understanding. "What are you talking about?"

Even in the dim light, he could see the crimson that stained her cheeks. "Never mind," she said hurriedly. She stood then, tilting her body away from his. "It doesn't matter." But he could tell from her expression that it did matter, quite a bit.

"Tell me," he said softly. The air suddenly seemed quite cold, although he hadn't felt a chill before. He folded his arms across his chest. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she repeated. "It's nothing." Her eyes didn't quite meet his and he found his mind racing. What had the Spirit said to her? When? It almost sounded as though they had made some kind of a deal…but that couldn't be true. He didn't want it to be true.

"Please, Tea." He took a step closer to her and her gaze jerked up, her eyes finally connecting with his. He swallowed hard. "Trust me with the truth."

As he watched, those eyes, those beautiful sapphire eyes that could sparkle with joy, flash with anger, and shine with hope, filled with tears. Then, she looked down, hugging her arms to her chest. There was a long, labored silence. And then she began to speak.

"Just before we left the Shadow Realm, the Spirit of the Ring…" she squeezed her eyes shut. "He…he gave me an ultimatum." Her voice quivered treacherously as she spoke. Ryou felt like an icy hand was gripping his insides. He couldn't breathe, not even to ask the questions he was desperate to know the answers to. He could only stand there silently and listen as Tea went on. "He told me t-that.." She swallowed, and when she resumed talking, her voice was barely above a whisper. "He told me that soon I wasn't going to be a virgin anymore."

Ryou swore. "That won't happen, Tea. I won't let him touch you."

Tea let out a little sob. "You said it yourself, Ryou. He always gets what he wants. There's no way to fight him. He's too strong."

The world swirled red in front of Ryou's eyes. He wanted…God, he just wanted to kill something. Someone. Preferably the Spirit of the Ring. If strangling himself would have worked, he would have done it in a heartbeat. But he knew saying any of this, or shouting, or throwing things, or any of the other things he wanted to do weren't going to help Tea, so he forced himself to stay calm. And as he made himself think rationally, something else she had said came to his mind. "You said he'd given you an ultimatum…" His brow wrinkled in confusion. He wasn't the English whiz that Tea was, but he was pretty sure that an ultimatum was different than just a plain threat. An ultimatum had conditions, an "either this or that." Not certain he actually wanted to know, but knowing that he needed to, he asked, "What else is there, Tea?"

She glanced up at him through lashes wet with tears. "H-he told me that he would take me by force," she whispered, and his heart clenched, "or.."

Or? His whole body strained towards her, needing, and yet dreading to hear the words that followed.

"…or I could give myself to you." Her head came up and her body straightened. "Freely."

The world reeled, staggering like a drunk man. Ryou's ears buzzed with the words he couldn't possibly have heard. In his swirling, blurring vision, he saw Tea, pale and shivering, reach towards him, and he stumbled backwards.

"Ryou," she whispered. 'Ryou, please." She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Just…" She took another step toward him, her hand brushing against his chest. "Just forget about all that," she whispered. "It's better that way." Her fingers slid along the ridge of his shoulders. "Just forget everything. It's just you and me, this moment of time. Nothing else matters." She leaned forward, warm mouth slanting towards his, her intentions smoldering in her eyes.

Ryou closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, breathing in the clean smell of soap, the scent of apple blossoms with acrid notes of lemon, and the sweet, indescribable perfume that was Tea herself. He felt her fingers on his skin, her breath on his neck, her heat shimmering in the air between them. He opened his eyes and he knew what he had to do.

He ran.

No words, no warning, just his bare feet on the still-slick tile, pounding toward the open door. He heard Tea gasp, heard her call his name, heard her own footsteps beating after his. He didn't turn around, didn't slow for a second. He knew if he hesitated, if he thought twice about it, that he would stay. So he didn't wait. He didn't think. He simply ran.


	44. Chapter 44

Her pulse hammered in her throat as her fingers slid over warm skin, and all she wanted was to pull him to her, to pull him in deep where he'd never let go. If she could just dissolve into that warmth, folded into his arms like whipped cream into chocolate mousse, then she could forget all the ugliness—the pain, the shame, the guilt. It wouldn't exist, just as long as he held her. But even as her fingers tightened, they contracted around thin air. She felt, more than saw him run—the rush of air as he flung himself back, the vibration along the tile as his feet thudded against it. "Ryou!" It was a strangled sound, barely above a whisper. Then, she was running, bare feet slapping the cold tile, faster and faster, but not fast enough. "Ryou!" It was a yell this time, wrenched out of her lungs by the iron hand of desperation. But he didn't stop, didn't even slow. He kept running, without so much as a glance behind him.

Out of the locker room, down the dark hallways illuminated only by exit signs and emergency lights, she chased him, panting and breathless. But he was too quick for her, and he'd had a lead. He disappeared through the shadowy corridors and she could no longer hear his footsteps. There was no point, anyway. Even if she caught up to him, she couldn't make him stay.

She sank to her knees in the middle of the hallway. Her gasps for breath turned into sobs, and then she was weeping, tears streaming down her face, dribbling over her hands, her legs. It wasn't beautiful crying, single crystal tears sliding elegantly down porcelain cheeks. This was wailing, her face flushed, eyes red and swollen, her whole face scrunched up and distorted with the sheer…everything of it all.

Even in the dark of the locker room, she'd seen the look on his face when she'd told him. She'd seen the shudder that ran down his spine, saw the revulsion in his eyes. And still, desperately, she had reached out to him, thinking if only she could stir the embers, then the heat of his love would return to her. But not this time. This time, he had flinched away from her touch, and she could practically hear the word echoing in his head. Tainted. And she was. Irrevocably tainted. She might—for the present—be a virgin, but there was no doubt that she was already damaged goods.

_I chose you,_ she wailed silently. _Can't you understand that? This wasn't my idea, not any of it. I didn't ask for the Spirit to lust over me. I didn't ask for him to snare me into his sick little games. But I chose you. I could have chosen him, but I didn't. Isn't that enough? _

No, it wasn't enough. Tea knew that even as the words formed in her head. But it was something. Dammit, it was something. But now, slumped on the floor, stripped of her dignity as well as her clothes, she felt like nothing.

* * *

><p>Ryou's feet didn't slow until long after he had stopped hearing Tea run after him. His heart was still pounding as he came panting to a halt just outside the big metal doors. He slammed himself against the unforgiving walls, bracing himself with his arms. How could he have let this happen? It was all his fault. He'd known all along that the Spirit would do something like this. He had understood completely how deeply the Spirit lusted after her, and just how ruthless he would be in pursuit of that lust. He'd known that the Spirit would use him to get to Tea, had feared it from the very beginning. And yet he'd mucked about with half-measures, letting himself pretend that things would work out alright.<p>

The only thing he hadn't understood was just how perverse and twisted the Spirit would be. He let out a long, shuddering breath. How could the Spirit be so sick? His eyes squeezed shut. He'd imagined how the Spirit would coerce Tea into satisfying his dark appetite—had tormented himself with the sick possibilities—but it hadn't even crossed his mind that the Spirit might drag _him_ into it. Not like this. He'd thought maybe the Spirit would pretend to be him, to trick Tea into a sense of security, to prey on the—dare he say it?—relationship that was slowly growing between them. That, he had contemplated—and dreaded. But not this...this... his stomach revolted. Bile filled his mouth.

The worst part was that he'd really thought that she wanted him. When she'd touched him, kissed him, enveloped him in her warmth, it had felt so right. He'd thought last, at last, here was some measure of happiness, a drop of honey to sweeten the bitter cup that life had handed him. And it had been enough, more than enough. He'd been so tempted. He'd almost been willing to throw away every precaution, to sacrifice Tea's own safety because he was so intoxicated by her. But the whole time, every single incandescent moment, she'd been playing a part, going through the motions because she _had_ to. Because it was either him or getting raped by the Spirit. He flushed hot while at the same time, his veins felt like they were full of ice. His whole body trembled with anger—not at Tea, but at the Spirit, who had done this to them both, and at himself for being such a fool.

_Did you think it was real? _a mocking voice taunted him and he no longer knew whether it was the Spirit or his own mind that spoke. _Did you really think that she would just fling herself at you for your own sake? _Memories cascaded through him with blazing clarity—the fierce hunger in her kiss, the exhilarating fire that raced through his veins when her fingertips trailed across his kiss, the wild abandon in every sensual move of her body. Even tainted as they were with the knowledge of the truth, he couldn't help but be stirred by them. He couldn't help wanting to run back to Tea, and throw himself at her feet and beg her to begin again.

And maybe, if he did, then she would. Because she had to.

And with that cruel reminder, his resolve hardened into adamant. His fingers didn't tremble as they worked the lock. His eyes didn't blink as he threw open the door and bright sunshine, glinting off pure white snow, flooded the dark hallway. He didn't even shiver as he walked out the door, snow crunching under his bare feet as he waded up to his calves in snow drifts.

The door thudded shut behind him.

* * *

><p>The thing about crying is that it's a limited activity. There are only so many tears you can cry before your eyes run dry. There are only so many sobs you can gasp out before your lungs revolt and decide they would like to breathe normally, thank you very much, before oxygen deprivation can set in. The very hormones in your body are set against you, so that no matter how much you just want to weep and wail and never be anything but shattered every again, sooner or later, you find yourself curled up in a ball, taking slow, deep breaths, with sticky tear-trails all down your face.<p>

And when you find yourself that way, your body limp, your head aching, your eyes still raw, there's a temptation to dig deep and dredge up that seed of misery that's still lodged inside your chest, and let the whole weeping and wailing process start all over again. But you don't. Because even as the temptation rolls through your mind, so does the realization that your life still has to go on, drip by drip from the percolator of life, and it does not matter, not to anyone but you, whether the coffee is steaming deep amber with caramel notes and a bright hint of acidity, or whether it is cold, bitter sludge that oozes into a half-empty cup. It drips on, and all you really know is that you don't want to be sitting on a cold tile floor anymore, and you do want a cup of coffee. A hot one, preferably.

So, you pull yourself together. You get up, you splash your face with too cold water and scrub it with rough terry cloth. You dress yourself. You make sure all your buttons are buttoned and your skirt is straight. There's not a thing you can do about your hair—half dry now, and sticking up at angles—so you ignore it. It doesn't matter, anyway. You just tuck the loose strands behind your ears. You swallow, and the heaviness slips down your throat, and sinks down to the pit of your stomach and stays there, like the bones of the Titanic. Without a backwards glance, you walk out of the locker room, in search of a breaker box.


	45. Chapter 45

The breaker box, of course, was located in the electrical closet. The electrical closet, of course, was locked.

Tea bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming in frustration. Her reserves of patience were at an all-time low, and it took all of her superego's talking-down-the crazy-from-the-ledge skills to keep her from following her first impulse, which was to kick and pound the door of the closet until it gave way. That would have been singularly unhelpful. The closet door was the same kind of thick, heavy not-wood that the school used for the doors of the principal's office or the counselor's room. Joey or Tristan might have been able to ram it down, but she certainly wasn't going to so much as make a dent in it.

If Ryou had been here, he could have picked the lock. Of course, if Ryou were here, maybe she wouldn't care if the building had power or not. No. She wasn't going to start going down those paths. Off limits, she told herself firmly, slamming the doors on her memories.

Tea heaved a sigh. It really didn't matter anyway. In the course of trying to find the breaker box, she'd traipsed through a good fourth or so of the school. Lights were off everywhere. She couldn't hear the whirring of the heating system anymore. It wasn't a blown circuit. This was a full-scale power outage. The power might be out for a couple hours or it might be a couple days, and there was nothing she could do about it either way. It was time to stop pretending she could fix this and start dealing with the new reality.

Okay, so what were the most pressing needs? If she'd had pen and paper, she would have jotted down a list, but instead she kept the bullet points in her head.

**Light. **

That was the biggie. The exit signs still glowed red-orange, and there were a few other functioning light fixtures sprinkled throughout the building—clearly there was an emergency generator. But there was no telling what places were going to have sufficient illumination, especially once the sun went down._ If I'm still here by then,_ Tea added stubbornly, even though she had a sinking feeling that she was, in fact, still going to be stranded here by dark.

Possible solutions? Candles? Flashlights? There had to be some of those around here somewhere. The kitchen would probably be a good place to start looking for candles, or maybe Mrs. Mahurin's room. Tea remembered the math teacher's fondness for those scented jar candles. There were usually one or two on her desk or shelves. Flashlights might be in the janitor's closet—but she doubted she'd be able to get into it—or…maybe in the science supply cabinets? Tea vaguely remembered using flashlights for some experiments back in 9th grade. There were definitely lighters in the lab, so if she did get candles, she was set there.

Okay, what else?

**Food. **

There had been plenty of food in the kitchens— chicken fingers, french fries, bags of frozen broccoli, peas and carrots, besides the frozen hot dogs they'd had for dinner the night before, not to mention the different kinds of milk, juice, and fruit in the fridge. So it wasn't the actual existence of food that was the question. The problem was two-fold. With the power outage, the frozen food might thaw and the refrigerated food might spoil. Considering they were in the middle of a blizzard, not a summer hailstorm, the actual frozen food wasn't too high a concern. As long as she kept the freezer closed except for the few minutes of actually getting things out, everything would keep. The fridge would be more of a problem. The fresh fruit would be okay for the day or so that she was trapped here, and the fruit juice would most likely be fine until tomorrow at least, she should probably drink any milk she wanted tonight. There was no point taking stupid chances.

The major problem wasn't actually food spoilage. The major problem would be cooking the food. Last night, they'd used the teacher's lounge microwave—which wouldn't work anymore—and the Bunsen burners in the chemistry lab—which should. She didn't know what Ryou had used this morning when he'd cooked her that lovely breakfast with eggs and sausage, but…her heart twisted painfully in her chest.

_Stop it, _she ordered herself. _Stop thinking about him. He doesn't want you. _She folded her arms across her chest. You're only going to make things worse when… She couldn't say it. Not even to herself.

Wasn't it just a few minutes ago that she'd decided she had start dealing with reality?

She bit her lip—hard—and felt a faint coppery taste rise in her mouth. How exactly did one deal with the reality that Ryou abandoning her had sealed her fate? More than likely, the next time she saw Ryou, he wouldn't_ be_ Ryou. He'd be Bakura. And this time, she wouldn't have a choice.

Don't think about it. Just don't think about it. Tea groped for something safe and solid for her thoughts to latch onto. The list. She had to go back to the list. Okay, so light, food, what else would become a problem with no heat? Well, showers. She ran a hand through her damp, wild hair. She really had to find a comb at some point. But showers were not really a pressing need. No matter how stupid her hair looked, she couldn't imagine wanting to take another shower in the near future. Well, if she somehow fell into a vat of chicken fat, or something, but that seemed distinctly unlikely.

She shivered as she continued to wrack her brain, which immediately brought her to her next point.

**Heat.** The school was still relatively warm, even if it had already dropped past the point of being comfortable. But with the heating system down, things were just going to get colder. The walls would provide some insulation, true, but it was already below freezing outside even in the middle of the afternoon. Who was to say how low the temperature was going to get tonight?

The obvious solution was some kind of fire. But where to make such a fire? And what could she burn? There was no shortage of books to be found in the school, of course, but Tea balked at the idea of burning them, even if they were just dry textbooks, not controversial works of literature. Besides, it wasn't like this was _The Day After Tomorrow_ and the world would never be the same. School was (most likely) going to be back in session come Monday, and the teachers would be ticked off if Tea had incinerated their curriculum.

Insulation would be safer, than fire anyway, but that wouldn't create heat, only conserve the heat that was already there. There were still the blankets and mats she had used last night in the gym, but the gym was _not_ the warmest place to be. If she stayed there, she really might freeze before morning. Mrs. Evans' room had carpet, so it probably would stay warmer…no. Tea's hands squeezed into fists. She was not going to go back to Mrs. Evans' room. She was not going to be there when…she swallowed hard…when Bakura came for her.

She'd find someplace else. Or she would go the gym. "Freezing doesn't sound so bad after all," she muttered to herself as she continued on her search for flashlights.

* * *

><p>Ryou's teeth chattered. They'd been chattering for longer than he could remember. He would have rather suffered in silence. but he couldn't control the spasms of cold that wracked his entire body. Those spasms were the only movement left to his frigid form. At first, he'd stamped and rubbed and kept himself moving, but slowly he'd drifted into a sort of frozen lethargy. There was no point to rubbing his arms or walking in circles. He could force his body to produce heat, but it just escaped from his skin as soon as it formed, sinking into the endless white.<p>

His eyelids felt so heavy. He just wanted to close them, to let his body go limp, to collapse into the pillows of cold that surrounded him. He stumbled and caught himself just in time to keep from falling headlong into a snow drift. It was reflex, pure instinct. When he thought about it, he couldn't think why he had stopped himself. The air was bitter, its bite as sharp as a viper's fang. The snow would be warm, a soft, white blanket. He could curl up in that blanket and fall asleep.

His legs were lead. He dragged them through the snow, step after lumbering step. His feet had gone numb; he couldn't feel any sensation in his toes. It was a relief. One less place to feel the cold. The frozen landscape crunched underfoot, but he could hardly even feel the rocks that cropped out of the snow or the slick patches of iced-over pavement. He kept walking aimlessly. He wasn't walking towards anything, he was only walking away. Away from the school, away from Tea, away from the guilt and the yearning that clutched at him whenever he thought about her. They were twined together now, the guilt and the longing, and he didn't know if they could ever be untangled again. In a different world, in a world where the Millennium Ring had never come to him, a world where the Spirit had never cast a shadow over his life, could there have been a life together for the two of them?

Maybe, just maybe, if he closed his eyes, he'd wake in that world.


	46. Chapter 46

The building was quiet.

Tea supposed she should be used to the quiet by now, but this was different. With no power, so many of the tiny background sounds—white noises—had been silenced. There was no throaty hum of the heating system, no high-pitched whine of the fluorescent lights, no soft murmur of air churned by fans. In their absence, every other sound was magnified. Her footsteps, as soft as they were, clanged against the hard tile of the hallways. Even her breathing was almost unbearable loud.

There were no other noises besides the ones she made, not even the slightest whisper. It was uncanny. True, if she had heard other noises, it would have startled her, even frightened her, but this silence was just as unsettling in its own way. Where was Ryou? She hadn't expected him to come back and find her, but she hadn't expected him to just be gone, either. He had to be somewhere in this building, didn't he? Then why couldn't she hear him in this silent building? Why couldn't she feel his presence?

_Stop thinking about him,_ Tea told herself harshly. _Put him out of your head as he has so obviously put you out of his_. She hadn't come back down to this floor just to wander around and moon over Ryou. She had to focus on her objective: flashlights.

Her earlier expedition had yielded mixed results. She had recovered two jar candles from Mrs. Mahurin's room and she'd found a box of matches in the kitchen, along a box of birthday candles, which she figured might be useful in a real emergency. Maybe? She held one of the lit jar candles—lavender thyme scented— in both hands as she walked down the hallway, the flickering flame illuminated her path. The other candle—mango sunrise—was sitting in the hallway outside the school counselor's office. She'd found the door unlocked, and so far it was the best base of operations she could find. It had carpet, which would help insulate the room, and it even had a couch—a small, straight-backed couch covered in scratchy upholstering, but a couch nonetheless. It was also on the main floor, just a stone's throw from the principal's office, so whenever rescue did come, she'd be close at hand. The kitchen and cafeteria were much farther down the hall, but they too were on the same level, so she wouldn't have to travel too far to get food. The Bunsen burners were on the top floor, in the chem lab, but Tea didn't dare move them, so she'd just have to make the hike if she wanted to cook things. Otherwise, she'd make do on fruit and cereal.

The one important thing she hadn't found was flashlights. The candles were a good start, but the puddle of light they cast was less than ten feet, even when they were sitting high and still in the center of the room. Being carried around like this one was, the light was closer to five feet. It was better than stumbling around in the darkness, for sure, but it wasn't exactly practical, either. Tea had to concentrate on every step to keep the melted wax from sloshing over the lip of the jar, or worse, suffocating the candle. The wick wasn't very long, and while Tea knew that was supposed to be a good thing, the flame was so tiny, she kept thinking it had to drown in the candlewax. She was also terrified of dropping the candle. Both of her hands wrapped around the fat glass jar. It was surprisingly heavy, and the jar was already starting to get uncomfortable warm. She wondered how long it would be before it became scorching. Not to mention, carrying it in both hands meant that her ability to catch herself was severely limited. If she tripped over something, the jar candle was probably going flying. The best case scenario would be that she'd lose her light and there'd be broken glass on the floor that she couldn't see. The worst case scenario involved hot wax clinging to her skin and permanently disfiguring her, and setting the entire school on fire. (Okay, so that wasn't very likely, but it _was_ possible, and she did say it was the worst case scenario. Freakier accidents have occurred.)

She was pretty sure there was at least one flashlight in the gym closet. She could also grab the flannel blanket from the nurse's office she'd used last night. The tumbling mat was too heavy and cumbersome to be worth the trouble of dragging out the gym, down the hall, and up the stairs, but the blanket would be extremely useful.

A sound sliced through the quiet. A soft, low sound that Tea might have missed if not for the dead silence all around her. _Ryou?_ she thought wildly. Then, she heard it again. Water dripping. For a second, elation slid through her veins—it was Ryou! He was here after all!—and then she realized it was coming from the girls' locker room. Of all the places Ryou might be, he definitely wasn't there. She must not have_ completely _turned the shower off. She should probably go shut it off now. A groan heaved inside her chest, although it didn't escape her lips. She had absolutely no desire to step foot in that place again. In fact, she just might swear off showers for the rest of the school year. But she was too responsible to let water keep on dripping, even it did sound like just a tiny, tiny bit of water.

Reluctantly, she continued towards the locker room. As she got closer, she saw a faint glow emanating from under the door. _What?_ Tea's brow furrowed. She knew the lights didn't work; that was the first place she'd noticed the power was off. She glanced up and down the hallway, but there weren't any other lights beside the distant ruddy glow of the exit sign, and the warm, flickering light of the candle in her hands.

Cautiously, she approached and realized that the light wasn't coming from the girls' locker room at all. It was coming from the boys' locker room. Her heart beat faster in her chest. Maybe it _was _Ryou, after all. Maybe he had a flashlight in there, or a candle of his own. She kept her footsteps quiet as she headed towards the door, straining her ears for any hint of him. But the only thing she heard was the dripping of the shower. If it was Ryou, he was being extremely quiet. Maybe he was asleep.

She hesitated when she got to the door. If Ryou really was in there, did she really want to walk in on him? This was the guys' locker room, after all. He could be using the rest room, or taking a shower, or getting dressed…She didn't think interrupting him in the middle of any of those activities would be a good way to ease the tension between the two of them. Their next conversation should probably take place when they were both fully dressed and doing something really non-objectionable, like eating toast, or doing a crossword puzzle.

But mostly, she just wanted there to be a next conversation. And she wanted it to be before the Spirit of the Ring did what he was going to do.

"Ryou?" she called, pushing the door open just a crack. More of the light spilled into the hallway, but there was no reply. She couldn't even hear anything. "Ryou?" she tried again. 'It's me, Tea." Inane. As if it could possibly be anyone else. As if he wouldn't recognize her voice.

There was still no answer. Tea swung the door wide and ventured inside. There was no one here. No Ryou, no anybody. Just a dark, gloomy locker room, empty except for the pile of clothes on one of the benches. A glowing pile of clothes?

Tea hurried over to the clothes. She swallowed hard. Here were Ryou's navy school pants—trousers, he would call them—his jacket, even his white undershirt. His socks were balled and tucked into his shoes, sitting under the bench. Lying on the bench next to all of this was the Millennium Ring, bathed in a white-golden light. Every single one of its arrows stood straight up in the air, at rigid attention.

Something was terribly wrong.

If she'd stopped to think, Tea might have hesitated to touch the Millennium Ring. She might have remembered how the last time she'd seen it glow like this, she'd ended up in the Shadow Realm. She might have wondered whether this was some kind of scheme from the Spirit of the Ring. She might have worried and fretted and done nothing at all. But she didn't think. Something was wrong, and she knew deep in her gut it had something to do with Ryou.

She scooped up the Ring and felt cold fire burn across her skin and sink into her veins. She gasped, as much in pleasure as in shock. Her eyes shut as the magic slammed through her. Her body felt weightless, like the freezing fire that coursed through her was consuming her, like her skeleton and tendons and veins were being replaced with sheer light. It was terrifying and wonderful all at once, like a straight plunge from the top of a roller coaster into pure bliss. But already, the euphoria was starting to fade. Her arms and legs were solid, bone and muscle once more. Her feet were planted on the locker room floor, and her fingers clutched the Millennium Ring.

The Ring was still glowing, its arrows still rigid. Prompted by instinct, or maybe by magic, Tea pulled the leather cord over her head, letting the Ring hang against her chest. There was another flash of light and fire, just a blink, and then all of the arrows fell loose. All but one. One lone arrow in the bottom center of the Ring stuck straight out. Tea knew without question that it was pointing the way.

She followed the arrow out of the locker room. No sooner had she done so, than the arrow fell and another arrow picked up the glow instead. This one was on the right side of the Ring. She turned and raced down the hall. When she came to the stairs, the arrow changed again, pointing up. She followed the Ring's prompting up the stairs, down the main hallway, all the way to the heavy double doors at the school's entrance. Tea blinked in surprise and confusion as she pulled up short. For the last several minutes, she hadn't been thinking at all; she'd just been reacting. Now, the whirring cogs of her mind finally had a chance to catch up with her body. Why was the Ring pointing out the doors? She'd assumed this entire time that it was guiding her to Ryou. She didn't know why exactly—how she had decided that or what the Ring's purpose in doing so was—but she'd felt it instinctually. It thrummed through the low chorus of magic that tingled through her skin.

But if the Ring was guiding her to Ryou…

Suddenly, something Ryou had said once came flooding back to her. It had been hours ago, before their trip to the Shadow Realm, just a passing remark, a plan briefly considered, and then rejected. She hadn't thought any more on it for a long time. But clearly Ryou had…._Better you than me…_ His words returned to her with painful clarity. _Maybe the Spirit will freeze too. _

_Oh, Ryou._ Her sweet, noble, **stupid** Ryou_._ _What have you done?_

She raced out the door.


	47. Chapter 47

The frigid air stung her face as she sprinted out the door, but she ignored it, surging forward into the wind. She couldn't run for long. She sank in up to the tops of her calves in snow and she had to trudge through as best she could. The sun's heat had begun to melt the snow;a good thing, all around, except that it made the remaining snow—and there was still loads of it—wet and heavy. Her socks were soaked through in seconds and icy water pooled inside her loafers. They were probably going to be completely ruined by the time she got back inside. Still, she was grateful for the small protection they did afford her. She swallowed hard when she thought about the pile of clothes Ryou had left in the locker room.

She couldn't think about it now. She just had to press forward. She had to find him as soon as possible.

If she had been stumbling aimlessly through the snow, the task might have taken her considerable time. But she had the Millennium Ring on her side and its golden arrows pointed her steadily onward. She could feel its magic humming through her, could almost hear a voice whispering relentlessly through it _Save him. Save him._ Perhaps it was her own voice. It was the same rhythm that squeezed her heart and lungs, the same refrain that pounded through her head. _Save him. Save him. _

The Ring led her directly to where a pale, pink mass was huddled in a snowbank. Tea dashed towards him. At first, he seemed motionless and Tea's heart dropped into her toes. But then she saw the pale chest rise and fall, and she could breathe again. He was alive. Now she had to get him out of the cold and make sure he stayed that way.

She tumbled to his side, not caring that she was soaking her skirt in the process. His eyes were closed and his breaths were deep and slow, like he was sleeping. She wrapped her arms around him. Oh, but he was so cold. A tremor ran through her. But she didn't have time to be scared, to ponder what horrible price the elements might have already extracted for Ryou's heroic gesture. When you were dealing with hypothermia, every second counted. She shook him, gently, at first, and then hard. "Ryou." She could barely find her voice. "Ryou, please, wake up!"

His eyelids fluttered open. His gaze drifted over her face, but without recognition. Tea fought to keep her panic down. "We've got to get you inside, Ryou," she told him, trying to sound matter-of-fact, like the nurses when she'd taken Mr. Mutou to the hospital. "Come on. We're going to get you up now."

With her prompting, Ryou stumbled to his feet. He had to lean on her shoulder to walk, but at least he was moving under his own power. Tea didn't know what she would have done if he hadn't been able to do that much. Ryou might look skinny, but he still weighed more than Tea did. Dancing might be aerobic, but it didn't lend itself to bulky muscles. There was no way she could have carried him back to the school. Then again, you did hear stories about mothers lifting cars off their toddlers or husbands ripping grizzly bears to pieces with their bare hands to save their wives. Humans were capable of truly terrifying feats when it came to someone they loved.

Deep shivers wracked Ryou's body as they trudged together towards the shelter of the school. It was all Tea could do to keep him from pitching over, but each shiver filled her with a mountain of relief. If he was shivering, that mean his body's heating systems were still working. They might be hopelessly overwhelmed by the kob of keeping Ryou warm, but they were still fighting. If she could get Ryou back inside and warmed up, he might still be okay.

Despite her chattering teeth, Tea kept up a steady stream of soothing encouragement as they made their agonizingly slow way through the snow. "It's going to be okay. You're doing great. Not that much farther. Soon, we're going to get you all warmed up and everything is going to be fine." The words spilled out of her, automatic and meaningless. She didn't say the words that really pounded inside of her. _Ryou, you __**idiot. **__How could you_ _**do**_ _this to me? Do you really think I'd ever want you dead, no matter __**what**_ _it saved me from? Do you really think there's a world in which the pain of getting raped by the Spirit could __**possibly**_ _be worse than the pain of losing you and knowing you did it all to save me?_

She didn't say it. She let the calm, cheerful words out instead, listening as they turned brittle in the bitter cold. There would be time later for shouting, for recrimination and relief. _Please, please let there be time. _

* * *

><p>The trickiest part was the doors. She had to balance so that she was still supporting Ryou—who would have fallen if left to himself—while still tugging on the door with enough force to get it to open. It was a heavy door and the snow that was piled outside it didn't help, although fortunately the last two times it had been opened had helped with that somewhat. After what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few seconds, the door gave way and she and Ryou toppled inside.<p>

The warm air wrapped around them as the double doors thudded shut. Tea wanted to slump to the floor in relief, but she knew that it wasn't time to relax yet. Her wet skirt clung to her legs, reminding their battle with the cold was over yet. The school was much warmer than the outdoors had been, but not enough to get Ryou back to normal on its own.

"Let's get out of the doorway," she said, hauling Ryou up by the shoulders. "It's warmer further in."

Together, they limped down the hall to the counselor's office. Violent shudders shook Ryou's too-pale frame. Tea's fingers tightened on his shoulder. "Come on," she coached, keeping her voice bright and cheerful, "come in here and we'll get you all warmed up."

She looked around the room, desperately wishing she had done more prepare it. Of course, any time she had spent gathering supplies would have been time that Ryou would have been out in the snow, freezing to death. Her stomach clenched.

"Lay down on the couch," she told Ryou. He nodded mutely, and she helped him ease onto the pale blue cushions. He was still shivering, but at least his eyes were open and he was alert. Tea bit her lip. "I'm going to go grab some blankets," she told him, not even waiting for a response before she dashed back out into the hall. She didn't want to take the time to go down to the gym and retrieve the blanket she had used last night, but there were more blankets in the nurse's office, she was sure. She ran through the halls, ignoring her cold, wet feet. The soles of her loafers skidded as she made a hard turn, but she kept her balance. As she ran, she wracked her brain, trying to remember everything she'd learned about hypothermia. She knew the most important thing was to get his core temperature back up. It was better to use passive heating, she knew—warm air, blankets, things like that. Active heating—administering heat directly to the patient—did work, and faster too, but it was risky, especially when you weren't in a hospital and didn't have the right equipment, like heart monitors, to make sure you weren't killing the person you were trying to save.

Tea flung the door open and rummaged through the cupboards. Sure enough, there were two more flannel blankets like the one she had taken last night, and a couple of sheets. She wanted to just snatch them up and run back to Ryou, but she forced herself to take a second to think. What else might Ryou need? She looked around the nurse's station and came up with a thermometer and a few chemical hot packs. She'd use the latter as a last resort if she couldn't get his core temperature up high enough with passive heating She bundled those up with with blankets and sheets and headed back to Ryou as quick as she could.

When she got back, Ryou was stretched out on the couch, his eyes closed, his body limp. Sheer panic shot through Tea for a millisecond, and then Ryou's eyes opened. "You scared me," she said weakly. She forced herself to breathe.

Ryou murmured something that might have been "Sorry." It was the first time he'd tried to speak since she'd found him.

"It's fine," she reassured him. "How are you doing? I got you some blankets. We're going to wrap you up like a Christmas present, okay?" She grabbed one of the sheets to get started, then bit her lip. In the first aid classes she'd taken, the instructor always stressed that the first step was to get any wet clothes off the victim. They would suck heat away like a frost leech. Ryou had mostly already taken care of that by not wearing any clothes, but there was still his boxers.

"Um…" Her face flamed and she gestured inarticulately. "I…I need to…" Oh, for goodness sake, this was a full-blown medical emergency, a matter of life or death. This was no time to act missish. Especially since she'd been the one sans clothes less than an hour ago. "Sorry, to be awkward," she told him in her best business-like tone, "but I need to strip you now."

Either Ryou understood immediately or he was so out of it that he didn't understand at all. Either way, he offered no resistance as she peeled the sopping boxers off. He didn't even blush, which either meant that he wasn't embarrassed for her to see him naked or his hypothermia was worse than she'd feared.

This wasn't a time to ogle, so she kept her eyes trained on the wet clothing, and then reached around to grab the first sheet. (Okay, so she did peek once. She was human, after all. And that was one question answered, because the carpet _did_ match the drapes.) She wrapped him like a mummy, his arms tucked against his sides, but not so tight that he wouldn't be able to move. She covered his head, too, leaving only his face exposed. She wrapped two sheets around him, and then started on the blankets. She wrapped the first one around him the same way she had the sheets, but the last one she tucked over him as he lay back on the couch.

"There," she said. She glanced down at him anxiously. Even ensconced in the blankets as he was, he still looked like a wreck. "I'm going to go get you something warm to drink. How about tea? That's the appropriate beverage in this situation, right?"

He smiled weakly, but didn't try to speak.

Tea pressed a kiss to the exposed skin just above his eyebrows. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Ryou," she promised. She hurried out the door, but not before throwing one last glance over her shoulder. "Just do one thing for me, okay? Don't die."


	48. Chapter 48

A/N: Yes, I'm back! Your cries have summoned me! XD. Seriously, though, it's thanks to persistent reviewers who kept pestering-I mean encouraging-me to continue, that gave me the motivation to resume work on DD after taking a break to do some original stuff.

* * *

><p>The door to the counselor's office squeaked slightly as it swung open. "Hey, I'm back," Tea whispered. "Did you miss me?"<p>

She crept into the room and set the mug of tea down on the ground beside the couch. "Ryou?" she asked when there was no answer Her stomach clenched. "Ryou?" she tried again. "Are you doing okay?"

There was still no response. His eyes were closed and he gave no sign that he had heard her. Only the rise and fall of his chest kept Tea from panicking. She put a hand to his forehead. Still too cold. She grabbed the thermometer that she had brought from the nurse's office and gently pushed it into his mouth. She forced herself to breath steadily as she waited for the reading. At last, she pulled the thermometer out and checked it. It was the old-fashioned kind—apparently the school budget officials hadn't heard about mercury poisoning yet—and she squinted at the tiny black tick marks and rising red line.

All it did was confirm what she already knew. His temperature was too low. She had to warm him up. And now that he was unresponsive, giving him hot liquids was out of the question. So much for the cup of tea. She took a swig of it herself. Tears welled up in her eyes as the hint of bergamot washed over her taste buds. Had it only been this morning when they'd sat together having breakfast and the world had seemed full of hope and happiness?

"Oh, Ryou." Her fingers traced the pale curve of his cheek as she wracked her brain for something to do. The phone lines were dead and they were at least a mile of frozen tundra from any civilization. Even if she decided to run and get help, and even if by some miracle she made it through the snow and didn't end up in the same predicament as Ryou, it would be hours before medical help arrived. They didn't have that kind of time to squander. Whatever was going to happen had to happen here and now. It was on her. All on her, and she didn't even have central heating.

But she had herself.

Tea remembered watching _Tristan & Isolde (_the movie version with James Franco, not the Wagnerian opera) with Miho and some other friends—not the boys, she never could have dragged them through a medieval romance. There was a scene where Isolde and her nurse had to save Tristan from hypothermia by taking off their clothes and wrapping themselves up with him to use their own body heat to warm him up. Tea had dismissed it as typical Hollywood stuff, but Miho had actually asked about it in health class when they'd been doing first aid, and the teacher had confirmed that the principles behind it were sound.

"In a situation like that, you would want to remove all layers of clothing so that your body heat could make direct contact with the hypothermia victim," Mr. Cather had explained matter-of-factly. Then, he seemed to remember that he was talking to a bunch of over-hormonal teenagers and quickly added, "but of course, such situations are few and far between. In the vast majority of hypothermia scenarios that you are likely to encounter, all that will be necessary is wrapping the victim securely with blankets while you wait for medical professionals to arrive and take over."

Well, she'd tried wrapping the victim and it wasn't doing enough. She couldn't wait for the medical professionals. It was time for more drastic measures. She took another drag of Earl Grey and pulled off her socks and shoes. She should really have taken her wet clothes off a long time ago anyway. Her soaked skirt quickly hit the floor, and she reached for the buttons of her jacket. It was then that she realized she was still wearing the Millennium Ring around her neck. Her fingers froze as they connected with the cold metal. The Ring had led her to Ryou. It had probably saved his life. But she couldn't just forget that it was an instrument of evil. She hesitated a moment, and then drew the leather cord off her neck. She laid the Ring on the low table that sat beside the couch. Then, she finished undressing.

There was a moment of shivering cold as she stood bare in the middle of the room, and then she turned to Ryou. She had to work fast, because by messing with the blankets, she was going to lose some of the body heat that Ryou'd already generated. The longer it took, the more he'd lose.

She unraveled the blankets and sheets from around him, and then, before she could freak herself out by thinking about it too much, she laid down next to Ryou, their bare bodies nestling together, skin to skin. As carefully and quickly as she could, she re-wrapped the blankets around them both. They weren't as secure this time around, but her own body heat should more than make up the difference.

Tea wrapped her arms around Ryou and laid her head against his shoulder. She though he shifted a little bit-but maybe it was her moving him—but his eyes didn't open and he said nothing. He was either unconscious or really fast asleep, because he seemed to have no clue she was here with him. That was probably for the best. As it was, her heart was racing and every inch of her felt red with embarrassment. If Ryou was awake, her heart would probably explode right out of her chest.

_Don't think about it, Tea. Just close your eyes and relax. _

But she didn't want to stop thinking about it, and she definitely couldn't relax. Even in the locker room, they hadn't been this close. Every centimeter of skin was pressed together, all of it bare and smooth. His skin was too cold, it was true, but her own more than made up for it, flushed and overheated. Her fingers trailed over the muscles of his shoulder, firm and lean, and then downwards, down the line of his spin. He was too thin. She could feel every vertebrae. He should eat more.

Through half-closed eyes, a fantasy drifted over her, of her feeding Ryou strawberries and whipped cream. She was in one of those saucy little French maid outfits and he was wearing a suit with an open dress shirt, a tie draped loose across his collar. He kissed her fingers as she fed him the berries, and licked his lips. There was a tiny dot of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth. She kissed it off him, and then they were kissing. Deep, open-mouthed kisses that tasted of strawberries and sweetness, and left fire tingling in her toes.

She let out a long sigh. The rise and fall of her chest brushed it against Ryou's in a new way, sending fresh ripples of fire through her skin, fire that contradictorily radiated both from his cool skin and from her own molten core. An ache was starting to spread through her breasts. They felt heavier, yet firmer, as they swelled against the hard plane of Ryou's chest. She shifted against him, trying to get closer, even though it was impossible. Her fingers dug into his shoulder, his hip, trying to pull him tighter against her. She was afraid her motives had nothing to do with best care practices and everything to do with desire.

Desire. It pooled up inside of her like magma. And she was Mount St. Helens, seemingly dormant now, but soon to erupt. She feathered her lips across Ryou's, but she couldn't do more than steal a few touches of sweetness. He was unconscious, for pity's sake. And even if there wasn't the very real issue of consent and Ryou's inability to give it at the moment, he was fighting for his life. She looked down on at him, and the pulsing fire inside of her cooled to a deep warmth that hummed inside her chest. He was fighting for his life because of _her_, because he had decided that she was worth suffering for, was even worth _dying_ for. She dropped a chaste kiss on his forehead. No one had ever sacrificed himself for her before. No one had ever cared so much about her before.

It was stupid, she had to admit. Colossally stupid. But it was also…sweet. So sweet that she didn't think she could possibly be angry with him when he recovered. For one thing, because she'd be too relieved to feel anything other than immense joy. Sure, it was foolish, but wasn't it Jane Austen herself, through the mouth of Charlotte Lucas, who said, "We are all fools in love"?

She nestled against Ryou, in the flickering candlelight. Was it just her, or did he feel warmer, more alive? She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of his skin. The world slowly seemed to be righting itself. Here, with Ryou, everything was calm, peaceful, safe. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and let the anxiety and exhaustion of the past couple of days catch up with her. Just before the tides of sleep claimed her, she whispered, "I love you, Ryou."


	49. Chapter 49

Somewhere, there is a dark room, illuminated only by a single shaft of light. Moonlight, perhaps. No one knows. In the column of light stands a small table, black as the shadows that creep in the corners. On the table, stands an hourglass. Its clear, sloping sides are capped with gold. The top of the hourglass gleams in the light. Sand as white as a marble tombstone fills the glass. The bottom of the glass is lost in shadow.

One by one, the white sands slip through the glass and fall into darkness.

...

Somewhere, there is another room, awash in tired grey light that creeps from under blinds and doors. It crawls over the tangled bodies and collapses on their eyelids, but it cannot awaken the sleepers. A tiny flame gutters, rallies valiantly, and then wavers again. It is powerless here. There is only the stillness, the silence, and the rise and fall of two chests, the beat of two hearts. And somewhere, ever so faintly, the pitter-pat of falling sand.

...

Little by little, the sands drain away. Light glints from one side of glass to the other. The grains nestle against each other in its base, crowding out the shadows that slither between them. The shadows are hungry now, restless. But waiting, still waiting.

There are but a few more grains to fall.

* * *

><p>Tiny sounds woke her up, gentle movements. Her eyelids fluttered as she hauled in a deep breath. The air smelled like mango sunrise, like old flannel, and like Ryou. But mostly mango sunrise. She couldn't figure out why this was for several seconds until her brain woke enough to realize, "The candle!"<p>

Her eyes flew open and she nearly toppled off the couch as she twisted to look at it. But to her immense relief, the candle was completely fine. It hadn't burned down the building, or covered the floor in hot wax. It hadn't even burned down to the bottom of the jar. In fact, the top layer of wax hadn't even completely liquefied yet, just a deepening ring around the wick. She must have only slept for an hour or so, maybe less.

Her senses reinvigorated from her moment of panic, Tea became aware of her surroundings. "Ryou," she cried, remembering at last the reason why she had been lying on the couch at all. "You're awake!"

He nodded sleepily at her, locks of white hair falling across his face. He looked a little worn and pale—but then, he was always pale—but otherwise fine. "What…" he began, even as Tea's eyes traveled from his face down his collarbone. Realization tingled through her that they were still entwined on the couch, and very much nude. A flush spread through her body and leapt up to splash her cheeks.

"Y-you passed out," she told him, not quite meeting his eyes. "F-from hypothermia." She bit her lip. "Don't you remember?"

Ryou groaned. His head ached and he rubbed at his temples. Actually, he sort of ached all over. It wasn't a usual sort of ache—like he'd been doing a lot of exercise or manual labor. It wasn't his muscles, exactly, that hurt. If anything, it was his skin. It tingled painfully, almost like a mild sunburn. Ryou had to bite back a chuckle at that. He wasn't likely to have gone sunbathing out in the snow, was he?

Except, he sort of had.

He groaned as the memories came back—his resolve, the venture out into the frozen wasteland beyond the school doors, the bitter cold seeping into his bones, and then…darkness. There were flickers of something more, of stumbling through the snow like a blind man leaning on something for support, of voices, of warm touch… but they were too distant. He couldn't recall them with any clarity. Not now, anyway.

Tea was talking. He tried hard to concentrate on what she was saying. Something about hypothermia? That sounded about right. He thought back to his last memories of falling into the snow drift and shivered. If Tea hadn't found him, he would have been lost in that cold forever.

"Oh," Tea broke off, noticing the shiver. "I'm sorry, I should have thought." Ryou shook his head. The only coldness that had prompted the shiver had come from his memories—and his imagination of what his fate might have been. Right now, he wasn't cold at all. Quite lovely, actually, what with all the blankets and…

"Here, let me help." Tea reached around him to tug the blankets closer. And that was when Ryou's body came alive to the fact that his sleep-fogged mind had only half-registered. Tea Gardener was lying in his arm, naked as the day she was born. Just as naked as he was.

His mind didn't know what to do with this startling reality, but his body certainly did. Heat was already coursing through his blood. He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the calm, cheerful chatter that poured from Tea's mouth as she tucked the layers of blankets and sheets more tightly around them. But the only thing he could focus on was silken slide of her skin against his, the whisper of her breath against his shoulder, the brush of her along his arm as she shifted. Ryou gritted his teeth against the burst of desire that burned through him.

"Er, not to be indelicate," Ryou managed, "but why exactly are we naked?"

A rosy blush spread over Tea's skin, and from his vantage, Ryou could observe that yes, it spread across _all _of it. "H-hypothermia, remember?" she squeaked. "I-I had to warm you up." She didn't quite meet his gaze for a second, and then she burst out with, "Haven't you ever seen _Tristan & Isolde_?"

Ryou furrowed his brow. "Tristan? But he's long gone, just like everyone else. And who's Is—"

"The movie," Tea interrupted. "The James Franco movie. Have you seen it?"

"No…" Ryou didn't really see what his movie-viewing habits had to do with anything. Then, he connected the dots, just as Tea started to explain—

"Oh. Um, there's this scene—"

"I've seen Day After Tomorrow," he interrupted, to let her know he got the point. "They kept their clothes on, though."

Tea's blush deepened, but all she said was, "Improper technique. Mr. Cather would have given them a C+ at best."

Ryou chuckled, and some of the embarrassment and anxiety left Tea's face. "How are you doing?" she asked "Are you warm enough? Do you need the blankets closer, or more blankets, or something hot to drink, or…"

"Everything's fine," he told her. If he told her that he was practically burning up, then she would leave and he would lose the incredible sensation of her skin and the tantalizing hint of her scent. Maybe he should tell her anyway. If Tea insisted on pressing against him like this, pretty soon she was going to have a startling discovery of her own.

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><p>"Oh. Alright." Tea settled back against Ryou's warmth. She wished she could lay her head against his shoulder like she had before, but now that he was awake, it seemed too presumptuous. Instead, she supported herself on her side and rested her head on her upper arm. Her gaze drifted perilously close to—but never quite met—Ryou's. Her eyes devoured the well-defined line of his collarbone, the smooth column of his neck, the sharp curve of his jaw. He was so…beautiful. There was no other word for it. He was beautiful, and she couldn't bear the thought that he had almost been taken away from her.<p>

Acting on sudden impulse, she reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair. Ryou looked at her in confusion, but she didn't bother to explain before slanting her open mouth over his. She felt him stiffen in surprise, and then he relaxed into her. She savored the taste of him, the warm, solidity of his lips under hers. This was real. This was not going to slip away. She clung to that with the same desperation that she clung to him, plastering their skin together as she deepened the kiss. Her mouth devoured his, raw hunger replacing gentle sweetness. Flames burst along her skin, trailing down to the core of her. She pushed Ryou back against the couch, shifting him beneath her. Her taut nipples strained against his chest.

His eyes locked onto hers. Such _warm_ eyes, like fresh-brewed coffee in a white porcelain cup, like long-steeped tea without a hint of milk or sugar, like brandy from the flask of a St. Bernard, rescuing her from the cold.

"Why are you doing this, Tea?" His voice was soft, even, but she could hear the crackle of tension in it.

Her fingers trailed over his arm, skimming through the light hairs that textured his skin. She released the breath she hadn't known she was holding. "I've asked myself that question," she told him, as her fingers wandered down the back of his hand, across the long, fine bones of his fingers. "Over, and over, and over again." Her eyes snapped back up to his. "And now, finally, I know the answer."

His face had tightened. He pulled his hand away, firmly, but not ungently. "I don't know what the Spirit said to you, Tea, what his threats or his promises were, but…"

"It doesn't matter," she said. She'd let her hand fall to her side, and now it grazed his knee. Without thinking, she traced circles over the rough skin, perhaps the only part of him that was anything but soft and smooth. "The Spirit doesn't matter." Her hand drifted upwards and Ryou's audible intake of breath punctuated the silence between them.

"Nothing matters except you and me." A smile curved her lips. "Because that's my answer. That's why I'm doing this." She leaned in and captured his lips, just a brief taste of heat and wonder. "Because I want to."

And in that moment, that glorious, incandescent moment, she knew it was true.


	50. Chapter 50

A/N: So sorry, you guys. I swear I am working hard on this story. Strings of chaotic RL drama and writer's block are just a terrible combination. Also, I swear, swear, swear, I am not trying to be a tease. Thanks to everyone for sticking with this story, and thanks for the feedback on the rating.

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><p><em>Nothing matters except me and you<em>

Once, Ryou would have thought it would be impossible for him to ever believe those words. Maybe it should have been impossible. But here, now, with Tea's warm, pliant body pressed against his, with her eyes fixed on his, radiating sincerity, he did believe.

"Because I want to," she whispered, and the smile on her face transformed her from a lovely girl to the most intoxicating woman in the universe.

"I want to, too," he told her, and he kissed her.

There'd been so many kisses between them in the past few days—playful kisses, affectionate kisses, fiery kisses, stolen kisses. Their kisses had been sweet, yes, but sweet like candy swiped from an unattended bowl. Their kisses had been like a second slice of cake, an unexpected indulgence that was never supposed to be given and was never supposed to last. This one was different. This one was a promise.

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><p>Her body slid against his, her skin like flames coated in silk. He could feel the tension that ran through her, the rigidity of her lean muscles. It wasn't fear, he knew, that gripped her now, but anticipation. The same anticipation that squeezed at his chest and made his breath come in gasps and spurts. His heart hammered against his ribcage. He wanted to do this right. But they were diving into deep waters now, and Ryou wasn't sure he knew how to swim.<p>

Tea's lips trailed from his mouth across his jawline. "Is everything okay?" she whispered in his ear.

There was a new note in her voice, a low, sultry tone he hadn't heard before. But it was still Tea, the same girl he'd loved from afar for so long, and her voice called him back from the panic inside his head to the here and now. He nodded slowly. "Yes," he breathed.

Her lips dipped under the ridge of his jaw, skimming over the sensitive underside of his chin. Her tongue traced warm, indescribable patterns all the way to his throat.

She swirled her fingers lightly over the rough skin that strained over his bony kneecap, and then her touch went trailing upwards. He bit back a gasp as her fingers glided over his inner thigh. If he hadn't already been grounded in the present moment, he would be now. It was all he could do to breathe.

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><p>Fleecy grey shadows blanketed them. Neither the flickering amber candlelight nor the dim glow that emanated from the doorway could pierce the veil that hid the full glories of their bodies. Denied the panorama, it was the closeups that enticed—the curve of a hip, strands of chocolate hair falling across a bare collarbone, the satiny gleam across a length of thigh, the heaving of her lush, full breasts. Even better were the sounds and the sensations—her deep, shaky breathing, the creamy feel of her skin, the petal-softness of her lips brushed over his again and again. Her breathless, throaty laughter—and the way it raced to a squeaky pitch when she was nervous. The moan that flew from her throat when he reached out, hands trembling, for her breasts. And the way that moan slipped under his skin and reverberated through his belly when he closed his hands around them.<p>

His insides quivered like jelly. His hands felt impossible clumsy, like they had somehow been transformed into colossal meatballs. And then Tea gave a little sigh, and the flames leapt up, swallowing his nervousness, melting the jelly in his gut until it was nothing but a puddle of sweetness. Gently, he stroked and massaged and lost himself in the amazing satin-softness, the ripe firmness, the fire that licked in and between them. He could feel her taut nipples straining against his palms and he traced around them with his thumbs, eliciting a throaty moan from Tea. His fingers spiraled around the luscious peaks, savoring every breathy pant of pleasure he drew from her lips. Then, he slid his hands back down to cup her round fullness. Tea's murmur of complaint turned into a gasp as he squeezed. "Ryou!"

His hands stilled. "Is that… wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"No…" Her voice was breathless, molasses-thick. "Do it again. Harder."

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><p>Tea closed her eyes as Ryou's fingers clamped down on her sensitized breasts, waves of pleasure pulsing with the rhythm of his touch. She gave herself up to it, making no attempt to restrain the little noises that streamed from her lips. She trusted Ryou. He was gentleness to the core. Even now, his hands, his touch, they were so soft on her skin. Too soft.<p>

She strained against him, yearning for the friction of his palms against her nipples. "Harder," she urged him. "Like you mean it." Ryou did his best to comply with her orders, but Tea quickly lost patience with his tentativeness. She writhed against him, relishing the hard, lean planes of his body. Heat surged through her as she straddled him, gripping his legs with her own. Now it was his turn to gasp. "T-tea? What are you—"

Her mouth covered his, silencing him momentarily as their tongues warred briefly. He knew perfectly well what she was doing. And he couldn't very well pretend that he wasn't as desperate for it as she was. Not when she could feel him, rigid as a poker against her belly.

His mouth tasted of bergamot and spice; his skin still had the smell of snow clinging to it. She savored the tangy hints of grass and flannel, while mango sunrise floated over them both, sweet, but not yet cloying. That too was how she would have described the taste of him.

Her mouth moved boldly over exposed skin, drifting from throat to collarbone, to the well-defined indentation between his pectorals. Every inch of him was smooth and tantalizing. Her tongue teased at the pale flesh, chasing every subtle favor, lapping up every unintelligible sound of pleasure.

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><p>Her hands slid lower, to the heated spaces between them. Ryou groaned aloud as her nails brushed over him. "You're killing me, Tea."<p>

She laughed, a rich gurgling sound. Desire bubbled through her veins like champagne, heady and effervescent. She was drunk on it, and she wanted more, more, oh, endlessly more.

Fevered hands ran across his chest, sliding up to grip his shoulders as she shifted over him. Something fluttered in the pit of her stomach, but it wasn't fear, wasn't even nerves. She'd never done this before, heaven knew—though perhaps these weren't the best circumstances for invoking heaven in—but there was such a feeling of rightness in the way their bodies fit together that it erased her doubts before they even formed.

Ryou's warm brown eyes, heavy-lidded though they were, held hers. "You're sure?" he whispered.

She smiled. A warm glow, as bright as desire but far more tender, blazed in her chest and radiated through her. "I'm sure," she told him, leaning in to brush her lips over his as she spread her thighs and braced herself against Ryou's form. One last kiss before they crossed that last divide.

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><p>Somewhere, in a sunless room far away, trapped with the confines of a merciless glass, a grain of white sand trembled and fell. The last grain.<p> 


	51. Chapter 51

A/N: It's alive! And so very not-G rated.

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><p>A single cry escaped her lips, as sharp and sudden as the stab of pain that pierced her. She felt Ryou still beneath her, afraid of hurting her. Gentle, always so gentle, even now. Her heart stretched as a rush of tenderness filled it. One hand slipped from Ryou's shoulder to caress his face. "Love you," she whispered, as she started to move against him in a slow, tentative rhythm. She felt him relax, felt him responding to her rhythm, felt the erratic pulses of pleasure begin to coalesce into a potent mass somewhere at the core of her. Her lids drifted lazily downward as she surrendered herself to her body's instincts and the sensations they produced.<p>

And then it happened. She felt it the very first instant, but she didn't know what it was, not at first. It was a sort of shift, a shuddering that went through Ryou's body. At first she thought he had reached his climax…but it was too early for that, wasn't it? Or was it? She didn't know, didn't know anything that hadn't been covered in health class, or in the bodice-rippers that her grandmother kept stashed in the laundry room. But the instincts she had so recently awakened were in full force now, and they told her something wasn't right. Instead of relaxing, Ryou's body had gone rigid. Though a half-second later, the tension had eased, but his body was not the same as it had been. There was a different sort of energy to it now and more of it, languid tenderness replaced by intensity. It was almost as if…

The truth slammed into her as he thrust upwards. Her fingers dug into his shoulder as her free hand came flying away in shock. "Ba…Bakura!" she stammered between gasps. The eyes that stared back into her wide ones were the unmistakable color of dried blood.

He smirked at her as his hips rolled against her again, hard. So much harder than Ryou. She gasped again, unprepared for the pace he was setting. Just seconds ago, everything had been so _controlled_, so steady and gentle. Well, perhaps this was controlled too, but not by her, though she might be the one physically on top. The tables had been turned, and this was Bakura's game now. One bony hand grabbed her hip, molding her to him, forcing her to match his pace. The other hand reached up to her throat. Fear clamped it tight as his fingers grazed the hollow of her throat, but then his hand descended back down to her collarbone and she could breathe again. His fingers gripped ruthlessly, having no pity on her delicate skin. The smart of it rippled through her, half-buried under the more violent sensations that rocked her with every buck of his hips. This was too much. Too fast, too hard, just too much. It wasn't pleasure that lanced through her so relentlessly; it was pain, sharp and searing. But there was pleasure in it, she was forced to admit, pleasure like the foaming white caps on the waves as they slammed against the beach, soft and bubbling for an instant, disintegrated the next.

A groan escaped her lips, and his black laughter floated over her. "Why…are…you…" she started, but the rest of her question was lost in the gasps of air that punctuated every thrust home. But the Spirit got the jist of it anyway, as the amused twinkle in his dark eyes attested to. Or maybe it was simply her that he found amusing, her and her utter inability to deny him what he had been pursuing all of this time. Frustration beaded along her spine, but it, just like her words, was subsumed in the relentless rolling of his hips against hers.

"We had a bargain, remember, sweetling?" His words were hot and sticky against her neck, pressing as tight as his fingers. "I keep my promises, even if you do not."

It was unfair, so utterly unfair, that she couldn't scrape together the breath to finish a single sentence, but he seemed to have no trouble at all in mocking her. But then, nothing about the Spirit of the Millennium Ring had ever been fair, and, besides, she was pretty sure he had more practice at this then she had.

As if reading her thoughts, he murmured against her skin. "You _are_ a natural at this." He accentuated this remark with an especially hard thrust that sent Tea's head lolling. The pool of pleasure that had collected earlier was still there, only now it had become more of a hot spring, bubbling as it filled her, steam rising and coating everything. "Or maybe it's just that I am so intoxicated by you."

Tea fought to clear her head, to focus on his words, on his smug, sneering face and the hard knot of hate in her chest, not on the fog of pleasure with its quick splinters of almost-pain that kept it rolling in so fast and thick. "But…I… did… keep…promise…" A throaty moan ended her attempt to try to argue.

"But not soon enough." With sudden swiftness, Bakura shoved up at her. Tea went sprawling backwards as he freed himself from her, knocking her against the opposite arm of the sofa. Too stunned to do more than drag into a pained breath, Tea watched as the Spirit moved over her, his pale hands coming to rest on her shoulders. With a wicked twist of his lips, he pushed her back against the couch. The wooden frame creaked as it dug into her flesh, and the ancient, wiry wool scratched the sensitive skin of her back. But Tea was more concerned with the glittering lust in his eyes and the vicious smirk on his lips that told her he wasn't anywhere close to through with her.

She swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry. "What are you doing?" It wasn't really a question; it was half-demand, half-plea. She hadn't really expected him to answer, and he didn't, except by licking his lips. His hands tightened on her shoulders. He kissed her greedily, plundering her mouth with his tongue. When he broke off, his mouth roved over cheek and chin, down the ivory column of her neck, leaving a hot, wet trail in his wake. When he reached the cleft of her clavicle, his tongue teased at it briefly before he pulled back. His eyes dug into hers. Then, he pushed her shoulders backwards, rolling them over the edge of the sofa arm. Tea gasped as she felt herself falling backwards. The awkward angle forced her breasts high in the air, and the Spirit wasted no time in taking full advantage. He nuzzled the delicate undersides of her luscious mounds, tracing with his tongue the dull pink indentation left by her bra. Tea craned her neck, trying to keep her head level, but the strain was painful. As he began to lick his way up the slope of her breasts, the effort became too much, and she let her head loll back.

All she could see was the plaster ceiling tiles, a bit of the wall, and the top of the window, dim light filtering through the dented slats of the blinds. Blood rushed to her head, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. It didn't distract her from the rough scrape of Bakura's tongue on her sensitized breasts or keep her from feeling the sharp pinch of his nails on her shoulders. It didn't soften the impact as he slammed himself into her.

She screamed—in shock, in pain, in fear, in pleasure. "_Bakura!"_ The force of his thrust knocked her further over the arm of the couch. The coarse fibers of the upholstery scratched all the way down her back as she slid backwards. Her hair, falling straight down from her scalp, brushed the floor. A new rush of blood spurted to her head. Blackness flickered at her eyes for an instant.

"That's right, pet. Say my name. Scream it." He drove into her softness again and again, rocking her ever closer to the edge. She felt herself falling again. Her arms flailed, then dropped to prop herself up against the floor. Her legs locked around Bakura's waist in a desperate attempt to brace herself. Her whole body trembled with tension. Her eyes squeezed shut—her vision was nothing but blotches and blurs anyway. Between the blood pooling in her brain and the incredible strain of trying to support her weight in the awkward position she had been forced into, the sensations that Bakura was provoking in her body were all but an afterthought.

Abruptly, Bakura pulled out of her and yanked her back across the sofa by her ankles. Tea didn't have the energy to even gasp in shock. Her lay there, her chest heaving, as she tried to recover from the assault. Was it over? Oh please, let it be over. She kept her eyes shut tight, hoping against hope that this would all dissolve into a grotesque nightmare.

Cool fingers trailed across her cheek, skimming over her swollen lips. A smooth, sardonic voice floated over her consciousness. "Catch your breath, my dear. We're only just beginning." Hot breath stirred her hair as he leaned in close and whispered, "I want you to _feel _this."


	52. Chapter 52

For a few precious seconds, Ryou's life was perfect. And then, he felt it all slipping away from him.

Most of the time, when the Spirit of the Millennium Ring took over, Ryou wasn't even aware he was doing it. He was in control of his body, going about his life, and then, all of the sudden, he wasn't. He would come back to himself hours, or even days, later and only deduce what had happened by the time that had passed and the events that had taken place. It was like a strange form of narcolepsy, almost.

This was more like falling asleep. He could feel the world around him receding, growing dimmer and duller and more distant with every second. He could sense his muscles responding to a different will as the cold, cruel presence within him yanked the reins of his life away. No! Ryou clutched at the scraps of control he still had left, but uselessly, utterly uselessly. He wasn't strong enough to match the Spirit's ruthless will.

A thick fog rolled across his awareness. He drifted through it, weightless as a leaf on the breeze, weightless except for the leaden lump of despair in his stomach. Tea. The thought of her, warm and tender, buoyed him and crushed him at the same time. How could he have lost to the Spirit when the stakes were so high? Ryou trembled. He could still feel the heat of her skin against his own. He could still smell the soft hints of lavender and the sweetness of mango. He could still hear her voice—her tiny squeaks and breathless moans. He could hear her now, calling his name.

"_Bakura!" _

His hairs stood on end. That wasn't the hazy voice of memory—or imagination. That was _Tea._ Really, truly, Tea, although muffled and distant. He went cold, then hot, then cold again. That was _not_ what she called him.

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><p>His bare skin glowed almost silver in the dim light as he advanced towards her. A tremor ran through her, but she did not have the energy to flinch away. She was sprawled across the ancient sofa, the sheets and blankets she and Ryou had used pooled beneath her in odd lumps and bunches. Her chest was still heaving, her breath coming in great gasps—a fact which had not at all escaped the Spirit's notice. His dark, narrow eyes were drawn to her breasts and he reached down to cup one. His rough thumbpad brushed over her sensitized nipple. "So taut," he murmured, in an altogether smug tone. "Are you still going to pretend that you don't want me?"<p>

He did not wait for a response, even if Tea could have marshaled the energy to make one. He leaned over and popped the nipple into his mouth. His tongue rolled over it, as if he was tasting some exotic candy. The sudden burst of sensation was almost enough to distract her from the movement of his hand—almost. Tea gasped as he slid his hand between her thighs. She slammed her legs closed, but only succeeding in trapping his hand against her sensitive flesh. Bakura pulled his head away from her breast, a string of saliva trailing from the corner of his mouth. He chuckled as he wiggled his fingers, eking out room to maneuver. "There's no need to panic, my dear. I had no intention of taking my hand away just yet." He curled his index finger, and a moan shivered in Tea's throat.

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><p>Sensation washed over Ryou—faint, but fiery. His fingers tingled and he could almost swear the creamy skin of Tea's breasts was beneath them. Now the sensation was at his mouth, now at his other hand. He closed his eyes against the heat and the desire. What was this? His eyes flew open as he heard the Spirit's voice. It was too low and indistinct for him to make out the words, but he recognized the sardonic cruelty of it at once. Then, he heard Tea's voice, high and strained. He labored to catch her staccato words. "Don't—don't touch me—" Her protests were broken by a moan of pleasure that sounded as though it had been forced out of her very depths. The sound would have crushed him if he were not overwhelmed with his own blast of pleasure. Desire licked through his veins, in response to some stimuli he could only dimly guess at. He wasn't certain he wanted to guess. Tea moaned again, softer this time, but no less fervid. He could hear laughter too. His stomach clenched at the familiar sound.<p>

The mist around him flickered, hinting at shapes and colors just beyond his sight. He reached out to it, as though he could pierce it with his hand—which was just as insubstantial as the mist itself. He could not see the slightest change, but his fingers came away wet. Through the veil that separated him from reality, he could hear Tea gasp.

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><p>The Spirit brought his fingers to his mouth, licking each one with elaborate noises of enjoyment. He grinned obscenely at Tea when he was finished. "Care for a taste?" He chuckled at her expression. "Suit yourself. But you really don't know what you're missing." He wiped his sticky fingers on the side of her left breast. She tried to squirm away from him, but there was nowhere to go. Her right shoulder dug into the back of the old couch; her spine pressed against the worn cushions. The Spirit loomed over her, unashamedly naked. His jutting arousal brushed against the top of her thigh as he bent to steal a kiss from her lips.<p>

Tea turned her face so that he only caught the corner of her mouth. It was enough for him. His tongue snaked out and slid along the seam of her lips, forcing its way inside. Cold fingers gripped her chin, turning her face to allow him access. He plundered her mouth, spreading a sweet, tangy savor through its depths, then sloppily broke the kiss. "When are you going to learn that you are mine?" he asked, faint exasperation in his tone. "The struggle is exciting, I admit, but surrender could be so much sweeter." He wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb. "What did you think, by the way?"

"I'm not yours," she muttered reflexively, but it was a limp defiance, and they both knew it. "And I hated it. Just as I hate you."

"Really?" His snowy eyebrows skyrocketed. "I found it entirely delectable. Addicting, really." His lips drew back in a wolfish grin. "I want more."

His head descended again, but this time, Tea realized, he wasn't heading for her lips. Her protest peetered into a squeak as he pushed her knees apart.

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><p>With trembling legs, he took a step towards the banks of fog, and then another step. He had expected the landscape to recede as quickly as he progressed, preventing him from leaving this place, or even getting close. Much to his surprise, however, the mist let him pass. It clung to his skin, soaking into his hair and clothes. Tiny droplets beaded on his cheeks, but they weren't cold, not even remotely. The further he went into the fog, the more clearly he could hear the sounds that had been tormenting him. He heard not only Tea's throaty moans, but also the tiny gasps, the labored breaths, and the masculine grunts of satisfaction that went with them. It was more than sound, however. The sensations were becoming stronger as well. The feelings that pulsed through him were still far too indistinct for him to be certain of exactly what his body was up to, but the fire that burned through his veins was no stranger to him. This was more than sheer desire however. This was not just the desperate, fiery need that licked through him, although it was that, but also the sweet pleasure, the fulfillment of that need, which Ryou had only begun to sample before the glass was snatched from his lips. There were moments when the pleasure trembled through him so strongly that he faltered in his steps. He could feel her too. Tea. Her scent drenched him. Her heat was all around him. Not enough. Not nearly enough. Deeper and deeper, he pushed through the mist.<p>

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><p><em>"Bakura."<em> His name was almost a sob on her lips. Could you die of pleasure? If so, she was dying, or maybe she was already dead. Only her shame kept her anchored to the earth, the knowledge that it was the Spirit of the Millennium Ring who was doing this to her, who was wringing such impossible pleasures out of every fiber of her body. It was like a glowing coal in the pit of her stomach, burning steadily through her insides, counterpoint to every aria of delight.

Bakura lifted his head to meet her eyes, and she could not help the groan of disappointment that slipped out of her. How could he stop now when she was so close…? She squirmed against the couch, no longer caring that the rough fabric was abrading her bare skin. "N-no…" Somehow the words formed on her lips and sputtered into speech.

A familiar smirk flickered on the edges of Bakura's mouth. He licked a fleck of moisture from his lower lip. "No?" he echoed, reaching between their bodies to tease her breasts. "And here I thought you were starting to warm up to me." He gave her nipple a hard tweak, and she gasped in pain. It was a good reminder. It was not solely pleasure that came from the Spirit's hand. She would do well to remember that. But how could she remember anything when he was touching her like that, and she could feel every molecule in her body melting into a puddle?

He gave a little shrug. "Fine, then. Have it all your own way." He pulled away from her, and for a shocking second, she was entirely bereft of the heat of his body. Only a few minutes ago, she had been cursing his name; now it took every ounce of restraint she still possessed not to cry out for him to come back to her. Still, she sealed her lips tight. She could not stop him from taking what he wanted. He had proved that with breathtaking thoroughness. But she would not give herself away. Not to him.

_Ryou._ The name echoed through her, unspoken, but so much stronger than mere thought. _Ryou._

For half a second, she could have sworn his fingers interlaced with hers.


	53. Chapter 53

A/N: A few good snow days, that's all I need... This has been a snow day story from the beginning, so perhaps it's not remarkable that snow days are when I do my best writing on it. I apologize for the delays with these past chapters. Although this has been the planned direction of the story from the beginning, I'm a bit out of my depth when it comes to writing this stuff. Thanks for sticking with me and this story.

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><p><em>Ryou. <em>The voice was Tea's, but not the indistinct, ragged one that drifted through the walls of fog. It reverberated inside of him, filling him with sensations almost too powerful to name. She was calling to him. He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew, bone-deep.

The pulses of pleasure had slowed, but he almost didn't notice, because the feeling of her was so strong. Not the warmth of her flesh, or the scent of her perfume, or the lush curves of her body, but her. The kindness, the joy, the inexhaustible hope that welled up from her very soul. _Tea_. He loved her. He had known that for such a long time, but the truth of it rushed over him all at once. He loved the way her blue eyes sparkled with excitement or flamed with passion. He loved the way she tossed her head back and forth when she laughed. He loved the way she chewed her lip when she was concentrating. He loved the way her hips swayed when she walked. He loved the intrinsic grace that flowed through her every movement. Her loved her gentleness, the way her eyes got so soft and round, the way she would reach out a hand so naturally, as if without thinking, to offer comfort whenever it was needed.

He couldn't imagine not getting to see another of those melting smiles, never again feeling the gentle touch of her hand. It didn't matter if that hand was stretched out in friendship or in romance. Just to be with her was enough.

The sense of her was overwhelming. It called to him, tugging at his core like a lodestone to iron. He didn't resist. Warmth enveloped him as the mist melted away. Tea's crystal blue eyes stared up at him, blinking. "Ryou?" Her brow crinkled. "Is that…you?" The hopeful note in her voice made his heart leap.

"Yes," he managed to get out before his throat closed tight around the word. Tea was splayed out in front of him, completely bare, her creamy skin stained pink with passion. Her chest heaved with uneven breaths, taut breasts straining towards him. He stared at her, every thought in his head drained completely away.

Tea was not so incapacitated. She pushed herself part of the way up on the old sofa, lean muscles rippling beneath her smooth skin. 'How are you here?" she asked, reaching out and taking his arm. "Did the Spirit just…let you go?"

It took more than a few seconds for her words to sink in and a few more for him to try to formulate an answer. "…I…don't know. There was this…mist…" He couldn't possibly explain it. It was like trying to describe a dream. Things that had seemed perfectly naturally sounded absurd once voiced, and images which had terrified seemed only laughable once shared. Maybe a poet could have explained that space, that place between realities, and what it had been to escape it, but he couldn't. He didn't understand it enough himself. "I thought of you," he said softly. The rest of it didn't matter, not really, but that did.

Her fingers caressed his arm. "I was thinking of you, too."

Heat surged through him at the memory of what he had heard and glimpsed through the veil of mist. His body tensed, and his mouth went dry. "You were?" The words came out as more of squeak than he had intended. Was she implying even a fraction of what he thought she might be? He tried to hold her gaze, but her eyes slipped away from his and landed on the floor. Pink glazed her cheeks.

"Tea." Wanting surged through him so powerful he thought it might knock him clean off his feet. He reached out and cupped her cheek, tenderly lifting her gaze to his. Something in her look smote him to the core. Suddenly, the burning flame of his own desires seemed pale and wan in the light of what she was feeling. He swallowed. "Are you all right?"

She look up sharply, seemingly caught off-guard by the question. For a second, something suspiciously like tears beaded in her eyes. Then, she blinked, and they were gone, although her eyes were still too-bright in the grey dawn and sputtering candlelight. "I'm fine," she whispered. Ryou didn't believe her was about to say so when she squeezed his forearm, pulling him down towards her. He knelt beside the sofa, and she curled against his chest. "I don't want to talk about…It's better just to…not…" Her eyes gleamed with moisture again, and she pulled her head away. She gazed up at the ceiling, where the window threw pale slats of light over the chipping brown paint.

Ryou said nothing. He stayed where he was, his arms wrapped around her body. She didn't pull away, if anything she moved closer against him, as she stared into the distance. She didn't cry, although after a second or two, she swiped at her eyes. Then, without preamble, she pushed herself partially up off the couch.

Her chocolate-brown hair hung over her face, disheveled. She tossed it back over her shoulder. "I don't want to cry," she announced, a curiously defiant note in her husky voice. She settled back on her on her heels, knees slightly spread. Ryou didn't dare read her pose, provocative as it was, as an invitation, until he caught the look she threw him. Blood roared through his brain, then rushed downward.

He gulped. "Tea?" His pulse was hammering, but he fought to keep his voice level and his mind clear. He was in deep, deep waters now, and he wasn't at all sure he knew how to swim. He didn't know what Tea had experienced while he had been "elsewhere," what she had felt, what she had felt. She didn't have to tell him, not now, not ever, not unless she wanted to. He wasn't certain he wanted to know. He just knew he didn't want there to be any more barriers between them. His chest ached with the intensity of what he felt for the girl in his arms. He wasn't good with words, not the way he'd like to be. Could he ever bring himself to tell her everything she meant to him, how much he would sacrifice just to make her smile? He didn't know. He'd have to show her, then. His body had some definite ideas on how to get on with that. His hands clenched into fists. A lifetime of telling himself no had taught him restraint, and he needed every piece of it in this instant. No matter what had passed between them before the Spirit had interfered, he couldn't expect Tea…after everything that had happened… no matter what he wanted, or how desperately he wanted it.

But if he was going to stick to that, he was really going to need her to put some clothes on.

She moved towards him, candlelight flickering over her soft skin in infinite shades of pink and ivory. She reached out to touch him, and he flinched away from her fingertips. "…You don't have to…"

"Ryou,"she interrupted. "I've been through an awful lot today." He nodded. That was an understatement. For both of them. "Do you know what I want now?" He bit his lips, and then shook his head. "I want to make some memories now, some really good, really right memories." There was a slight catch in her voice, but she shook it away as she continued, "I want you." Her lips curved, and the tightness in his chest eased. After all the hell they had been through, didn't they deserve just a little taste of heaven?

Their lips met with a blazing urgency. There was no deadline to meet, no clock to outrace, but the desperate passion that seared between them drove them on just as relentlessly as if they both had only seconds more to live. There was no clothing to rip off, no preliminaries to dispense with. There was only them, bare skin and smoldering touch, and no more shyness to drive them apart. Ryou's fingers skimmed over the ripe curve of her breasts, drinking in her moan as his mouth slanted deeper over hers. The fumbling awkwardness he had felt before was gone. His body was setting the pace now, instinct driving him unerringly onward. It was if his body knew hers already, the way his fingers slid in just the right places, the way he gripped her with just the right amount of pressure.

Tea felt it too. Ryou's caress was nothing like the Spirit's, yet she felt her body responding with familiarity to his touch. She let out moan after moan without inhibition or shame as Ryou drew pleasure from her aching breasts. Her fingers dug frantically in his scalp, desperate to keep him close. She had to have more. She pulled him down on the sofa, wrapping her legs around his thighs. There was no hesitation from Ryou. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as he slid a hand between them, positioning them both. Then he was inside of her, and there was no pain, no humiliation, just pleasure. The gentleness that was intrinsic to his very nature was still there, but it was wrapped around a passion as fierce and as she could have possibly dreamed.

Pleasure shuddered through her core as he moved against her, rhythm slow at first, and then building inexorably. Tea gasped as he plunged himself deeper into her. He stilled, "Are you al—

She didn't let him finish. "Don't stop," she ordered, grinding her hips against his. "Don't you dare stop."

Her fingernails scrabbled for purchase on Ryou's back as he complied with her demands. Faster. Harder. Deeper. The words spilled from her in heated moans. She didn't know whether or not they were coherent; she barely knew she was saying them at all. Still, Ryou obeyed each one, his breath hot against her skin as he buried himself in her again and again. Tea trembled, hovering on the brink of something she could not find words for. Her breath came in pants. Sweat beaded on Ryou's back, slippery on her fingertips. She dug her nails into his skin as she tensed around him. Ryou convulsed, groaning something incoherent, and then—and then…

All at once, she went rigid. Panic gripped her like a steel vise. She knew even before their eyes met what she would see. _Who_ she would see. . "Y-you!" she choked through frozen lungs.

His eyes gleamed, like a shuttered window had been flung open, revealing the ruddy light within. Liquid fire spiked through her core. His hand clamped on her hip as he quickened the hissed in pain as his fingers dug into her flesh. "Me," he agreed, lips curling in a feral grin.


	54. Chapter 54

Ryou was locked into Tea's tight embrace, surrounded by her searing heat, every sense overwhelmed with her essence. He could hear her voice, moaning, whimpering, whispering words he couldn't understand, yet somehow made him even hotter than he thought he could possibly be. He thrust into her softness as she arched up for him over and over…

Ryou's vision glazed over, and he had a curious sensation of drifting, like he was a hot air balloon that had been untethered. It only took a second, however, for him to find himself again. There was no fog, no shadows, only a sort of emptiness, like everything was just a bit too quiet, a bit too far away. He was in that spirit-space, that slice of mind and soul that was still connected to his body, but had no control over it. It was the place that the Spirit threatened and taunted him from, and the place where the Spirit shoved him whenever he wanted Ryou to be aware of misdeeds when he took over his body. He had taken over it now; Ryou knew that at once. He could still feel Tea, almost as clearly as he had a moment before, but he was no longer in control of anything that happened to her—or to himself. His hand snaked between their entwined bodies. His fingers grabbed at her breast. There was no tenderness there, only greedy desire as he squeezed the ripe flesh. The pleasure of it flooded through him, even as she squirmed to escape his grasp. His hips pumped viciously; he felt the surge of white-hot pleasure as she tightened around him.

He groaned, and then immediately felt guilty for enjoying what _he_ was doing to Tea. Was that why the Spirit was doing it, to torment him? To jerk him away from her again and again, and to taunt him with the unfolding scene? Or… a sudden thought bloomed, and with it, hope. What if it was that simply the most the Spirit could do? Perhaps the Spirit couldn't lock him away. He mightn't have the strength left, not after all the power he had already expended that day. The fists of his spirit-self clenched. What if he marshaled his inner resources and _pushed_…

He slipped back into his body as easily as pulling on an old sweater. Tea's eyes locked onto his. He could see recognition flicker in their azure depths, then relief. He pulled his head down to brush a kiss across her lips, happiness burning almost as bright as the pleasure building between them. He'd done it; he'd fought the Spirit back; he'd…

Just like that, he was shoved back into that spirit-space. This time, he could feel the Spirit's malevolent presence as it surged forward into the gap his consciousness had left. _No,_ he muttered,_ you won't win so easily. _It took more effort this time, like forcing open a jammed door, but he pushed his way back inside his body. He did not, however, quite manage to oust the Spirit. No sooner had he resumed ownership than the Spirit tried to wrench the control back away from him. His fingers dug into's Tea's skin, harder than he intended, as if the physical contact could somehow lend him support in the intangible struggle he waged. He could fend the Spirit off—for now—but doing so took almost all of his concentration.

Beneath him, Tea let out a moan that was more of pain than of pleasure. The constant shifts in possession had changed their gentle lovemaking into a battlefield. The tension of it was written in every inch of her strained body. He ought to put an end to this, but he was too close, much too close, to stop now. Just a little more…a little more…

The Spirit grabbed for the reins once more, and they slipped from Ryou's grasp for just a split second or two. Tea gasped, squirming in discomfort at the jolt in rhythm. Ryou tried to regain the steady pace he had set before, but he was disrupted once more by the Spirit. This time, when he was knocked back, he felt winded, suddenly drained. The Spirit had taken back over, and Ryou knew at once that his hold was more secure this time. Ryou's spirit was weakened; another assault against the Spirit's control was not likely to be successful.

Maybe he should stop fighting, he thought. He could feel each thrust as the Spirit drove deep into Tea's soft warmth, could feel the exquisite pleasure as she tightened around him. It would all be over in a few seconds. He should just let the Spirit finish it.

And then Tea moaned. Not an expression of pleasure, not a protest of pain. It was a plea too elemental to be put into any words save one. "Please," she whimpered, bucking her hips insistently against his. "Please."

Without another thought, Ryou surged against the Spirit's hold one last time. He intended to break it, to force the Spirit as far back into the recesses of his mind as he could manage, but the Spirit wouldn't budge. It didn't matter how much strength Ryou threw against him, his defenses were stronger. He was implacable. Even so, Ryou reached for the control of his body. He had it now, within his grasp. Somehow, they both did.

There was an instant of mystified awareness, and then he felt himself sort of melting into the Spirit. Not consumed, or even subsumed, but merging with him, two entities as one. Both of them inside of his body, inside of Tea, moving with her in desperate urgency.

She felt the struggle, felt the shifting and tearing that shredded at the sensations building at her core. The steady rocking, the violent thrusts, her body couldn't adjust to the sudden changes. She was trembling, quivering as she teetered over the precipice. There was more, she knew there was more. Her instincts screamed at her that it was true. She wanted it, Yearned for it as she had never yearned for anything in her life. But she would never have it, not this way. Not with Ryou's tentative tenderness. Not with Bakura's jarring surges. "Please," she moaned, desperate for something she could not describe. "Please."

And then it happened. She could no more put words to it than she could to this craving inside of it, but she could sense it. The battle no longer raged. Instead of warring against each other, her two lovers fused She could feel the rightness of it in every stroke, pushing her higher and higher, higher than she could possibly go without shattering into a million pieces.

And then she did.


	55. Chapter 55

There are eighty-six thousand, four hundred seconds in a day,six hundred four thousand, eight hundred in a week, and thirty-one million, five hundred thirty-six thousand in a year. Most of the time, these seconds pass by almost unnoticed in an endless litany of ways—schoolwork, television, eating, sleeping, the daily commute. A hundred casual conversations, a million waves and winks, smiles and frowns, handshakes and hugs. In stretches of silence or in the multitude of words, the seconds spill away, one after the other, like a stream flowing over rock. Bit by bit, the water wears away the rock, we know…but at any given second, the rock is no different than it used to be. So our lives pass. One step leads to another, one choice to the next, moment after moment following a pattern set long ago, blurring into an endless stream.

But not _every_ second. Not _every_ moment. Every once in a while, the pattern abruptly changes. The water hits the dam. The banks flood. The course of the river is forever altered.

There are moments that change everything.

* * *

><p>There was kind of mellifluous harmony in these sleepy seconds, trailing in the wake of glory. Bliss still clung to her skin, soaked through to her muscles and bones. She felt utterly content—and exhausted. With languid grace, she ran a hand over the bare back of the figure that lay beside her. Her fingers traced his spine, the bumps and ridges that jutted beneath the pale, smooth skin. Excitement tingled through her fingertips, and she smiled at how easily she felt it stirring in her again. She inhaled,slowly, deeply, the fragrance of skin and sweat, of sex and scented candles. She glanced over at the jar candle. The wick had burned itself out sometime not too long ago. A faint trail of smoke still streamed from it's tip. A lake of molten wax surrounded it, only the edges hardened. Her smile widened just a touch. That was exactly how she felt. The fire was gone, but she was still warm inside, every part of her soft and glowing.<p>

She was different now. Innocence lost, a cynic might say, and it was true, but there was more to it than that. There was more to her than that. Something had been added, not subtracted, to the sum total of who she was. Or perhaps it was a difference that couldn't be put in terms of an equation. Perhaps it was some kind of fundamental shift that could not be explained, only felt. She knew the girl she had been yesterday and the day before would not be here, would never be here, waking up beside this boy…was it Ryou or Bakura? Did it matter?

She turned to him, then, studied the delicate lines of his beautiful face, so peaceful in slumber. Words came to her, read not so long ago, though fragmented and jumbled in her memory. "You took me from my sleep and put knowledge in my heart," she whispered. Knowledge. It could be a bitter fruit she'd bitten, and not all the taste of it was to her liking. Still, she did not regret, would not regret.

Any moment now, his eyes would open. It would be the Spirit's eyes, cruel and demanding, or Ryou's gentle and shy, and the consequences of what had happened would have to be faced, one way or another. But not right now. She rolled her shoulders and stretched out luxuriously beside him, skin to skin. She let her eyelids drift shut once more. This was hers.

* * *

><p>The warmth of her body soaked into his, the rhythm of her breathing a counterpoint to his own. Awareness of her hummed along his skin, smoldering embers of an inferno that could so easily be coaxed back into life. He wanted to open his eyes, to drink in the sight of her bare body curled next to his, but he didn't dare. He wasn't alone in this moment, precious though it was. He could feel the Spirit's presence, not manipulating or coercing for once, but simply there, a silent observer.<p>

And then, not so silent.

_We have business to discuss. _

Following the Spirit's tug, Ryou's consciousness receded into that inner space, the quiet room full of Tea's warmth fading into the background. _What do you want?_ Ryou muttered at the image of the Spirit of the Millennium Ring that greeted him with lifted eyebrows.

A smirk tugged at the corner of the Spirit's lips. _Enjoying ourselves, were we? But of course you were. It's your first time for all of that._ He rolled his shoulders carelessly, his expression shading paternalistic. _I daresay Tea was satisfied enough. _

Ryou felt the familiar clench of his gut at the way the Spirit said her name, but he controlled his reaction. If this was all coming to a fight, he'd need his mental strength for when it counted. You said we had something to discuss.

As we do. The smirk disappeared from the Spirit's face, although the traces of sardonic humor did not entirely leave his eyes. What do you think happens now?

Ryou shrugged. He hadn't thought about it to much. He supposed they'd get up. There'd be words, maybe awkward, maybe not, and they'd get dressed, and then there would be breakfast…or dinner…or…he realized he hadn't any sort of idea of the time, then decided it didn't matter. _I'm not sure,_ he admitted. _We'll figure it out._ Whatever it was, it would be new and different. They were breaking new ground, the two of them, him and Tea. It was uncharted territory for both of them.

The patronizing smirk returned. _Do you really think this can all be sorted by a heartfelt conversation? Even you couldn't possibly be so naive._ Before Ryou could even compose a stuttering reply, he pressed on, What, exactly, do you imagine our lovely Miss Gardner is going to say to her friends?

Ryou frowned. He hadn't considered…he hadn't actually imagined Tea telling anyone else anything at all. But she would have to, wouldn't she? Her friends were an integral part of her life; she was rarely without them. If these last few days had changed anything between him and Tea—and how could they not have, one way or another—that would affect them too. If she treated him differently, they would want to know why.

What would she tell them?

Ryou hadn't tried to put his thoughts into words for the Spirit to hear, but he seemed to have picked up on them anyway. The mocking gleam in his eyes intensified as he re-folded his arms across his chest. _You still haven't grasped the severity of your problem, have you, my little host? You're still blushing over the phrases your sweet Tea might chose to let her dear friends know why she's sitting with you at lunch or sending you syrupy smiles across the schoolyard. You're busy wondering if she will really, __**really**_ _tell Yugi that you are her "boyfriend."_ He laughed. _How precious. How adorably naive. How utterly, disgustingly, irrelevant. _

Ryou's head, which had slumped towards the floor, snapped up at this last word. _Irrelevant? _he echoed. He still burned with humiliation over how accurately the Spirit of the Ring had captured the thoughts he hadn't even fully admitted to himself. But this last final shot, he did not quite grasp, and felt the sting of it all the more sharply, as the Spirit clearly had expected this startled, confused response.

_Yes, irrelevant._ The veneer of _ennui _that dripped off the Spirit's words could not quite hid the real edge of agitation beneath. _Get your head of of the clouds while you still can, little landlord. Are you still telling yourself that oh-so charming fairytale about falling in love on a snowy weekend? Do you think that is the story Tea is telling herself about these days? Do you think that is the story she will tell her __**friends?**_ The acerbic smile dissolved into a sneer as he spat the last word. He growled, more to himself than to Ryou, …_will tell that Set-blasted Pharaoh? _

A chill sank into Ryou's bones as he absorbed the words and realized their meaning. He still didn't know all of what had happened between the Spirit and Tea but even the things he knew….if even half the things he guessed… _She wouldn't,_ he muttered.

_Wouldn't she? _

Ryou struggled past the wave of panic. No, of course she wouldn't. As close as Tea and her friends were, surely she wouldn't just casually tell her friends so intimate and so uncomfortable. She hadn't even confided in him about what had happened with the Spirit. Clearly, it was something she didn't want to share with anyone.

_With anyone, or with __**you**__? _

Ryou didn't know whether the Spirit was intruding on his thoughts again, or whether it was his own brain scolding him for being so foolish. Why would Tea tell him? Evidently, he was powerless to prevent any of it from happening again or to do anything about it at all. It would have upset him, though, upset him greatly, and Tea had always been so careful of his feelings. Had she been trying to spare him of guilt when she had held on to her secrets? It was like her, caring and selfless. With her friends, however, it might be another case. They wouldn't feel his guilt or shame at what had happened to her. They weren't in any way responsible, after all. There was nothing they could have done. But they could do something now.

_Exactly_, said the voice in his head, and this time he knew it to be the Spirit. With the words came a shiver of…could it really be fear? _Fear? s_coffed the Spirit. _I am not afraid. I will take what I want and let that mewling Pharaoh try to stop me! I will destroy him! I will dance on his bones as I danced on the bones of his forebears. _Bold as his words had been, the unease threaded through them was all too evident. Suddenly, just as the Spirit had known Ryou's thoughts without them being voiced, Ryou knew the Spirit's. He had gone too far, pushed too hard without the strength to back up his audacious actions. Now, there would be consequences. Terrible consequences.

It was too strange for Ryou to think of Yugi—small, cheerful, ever-friendly Yugi—as some kind of grim avenger, even though he knew it would not truly be Yugi, but the Spirit that possessed the Millennium Puzzle. Through the Spirit's eyes, however, he glimpsed a different picture—a truly terrifying one. Would there be any mercy in those blazing crimson eyes for the Spirit of the Ring's hapless host who had utterly failed to protect the one who was so important to both the Puzzle's Spirit and its human possessor?

Ryou's eyes met those of the Spirit. He arched a snowy eyebrow, clearly aware of everything that had just passed through his mind. _So, are you ready to hear my plan? _


	56. Chapter 56

Ryou had always loved her hair. Through half-closed lids, he could see it, spilling over her shoulders, sticking up every which way. His fingers itched to play through the spiky strands, to feel the odd crimps and kinks and the glossy smoothness beneath. Tea's hair was usually so neat, perfectly in place. There was something so very intimate about seeing it this way, deliciously disheveled. He doubted Tea would see it that way, however. She'd probably spend hours trying to set it to rights—if such a thing were even possibly. Did she even have a brush with her, Ryou wondered. Maybe if she washed it again… The thought of her in the shower sent a rush through him which he quickly tamped down. That wasn't going to happen, he reminded his over-active imagination. It wasn't ever going to happen.

He wanted to stay her, still and silent, drinking in these last moments with her, but he knew every second that passed would only make it harder. He shifted, intentionally, and felt her body stir in response. She turned towards him. Her eyes were clear and sparkling, no trace of sleepiness in their azure depths. How long had she been awake?

"Hey," she whispered. A soft smile curved the corner of her lips. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

Ryou rubbed at his face to hid the sharp stab of pain that spasmed through him. "Is it morning?" he mumbled. "What time is it?"

Tea laughed, a warm, teasing sound. "Well, I don't actually know for certain that it's morning," she admitted. "In fact, I freely admit that I have lost all track of time." Her eyes met his, and there was so much warmth there that Ryou wondered if she was inviting him to lose a few more hours with her. The thought left him momentarily breathless.

He dropped his eyes, and the moment was lost. Tea swung her long, bare legs over the side of the couch, turning her back to him as she did so. She bent over, retrieving something off the floor. It turned out to be her clothes. She pulled her undershirt over her head and then pulled her navy skirt over her legs. When she stood up, she was, if not exactly presentable, covered. Her cheeks were bright pink. They'd hadn't been before. Ryou felt guilty for that. Had he made her feel embarrassed with his awkwardness? Ashamed, even? Or was it the debris of the night before, evidence that could not be blinked away, which had prompted her blushes?

Whatever the case, Ryou regretted the loss of the easy, intimate atmosphere they had shared only minutes before. There didn't seem to be any way to regain it, however, so they'd have to forge onwards the best they could. He looked about for his clothes, and then realized they weren't here. His clothes were in the locker room where he'd taken them off before heading out into the snow. All there was here was his boxers, in a little sodden heap on the floor. "Ah, Tea?" he squeaked. He felt himself turning red. "Could you, um, hand me my…" Before he could even finish the sentence, Tea had scooped up the garment off the floor and handed it to him. "Thanks," he muttered, not quite meeting her eyes. She turned away again, retrieving the rest of her clothes, as he put them on. The boxers weren't quite as soaked as he had feared, although they were damp and clingy. Uncomfortable, but made far worse by the fact that he had nothing to put over them. He had never thought of his underwear as particularly scanty before—it wasn't as if he wore tighty-whiteys or something—but now he tugged self consciously at the too-short legs and too-tight waistband, certain there must be a way to get the fabric to cover a few more inches of his skin.

Tea didn't seem to notice. In fact, she barely glanced his way. She was busying herself about the office, gathering up the sheets and blankets, straightening the office, generally trying to erase any trace of what happened. Smart, Ryou realized. They had no idea of when anyone might arrive at the school—the roads had to get cleared sometime—and they certainly didn't want to have to explain to the school counselor what they had used her office for. He grabbed a sheet off the floor and was starting to fold it when Tea cleared her throat. "Actually, maybe you should, y'know, get dressed." Ryou nodded, but wasn't sure she saw. She met his eyes for only a brief instant before dropping them again.

"Right," he said aloud. "I'll do that." He hesitated. But he'd taken refuge in silence for far too long already. "And then…and then I'll be back," he told her. He bit his lip. "We need to talk."

She glanced up at that, and he could have sworn there was a twinkle of laughter in her eyes. "Yes, we do. I'll be waiting." His heart soared, only to crash when he remembered what that conversation would bring. He nodded, swallowed hard over the lump in his throat, and walked away.

_Stop being so sentimental._ It seemed even in his loneliness, he was not permitted to be alone. _You could make a tragedy out of a trip to the supermarket, I swear. _

_If you were there, it __**would **__be a tragedy,_ Ryou thought back. He was surprised by the chuckle that threaded its way through his thoughts.

_So the kitten's claws come out after all. Good. You know, little landlord, you do have a bit more spine than I used to credit you with. _The voice sounded thoughtful. _I won't forget. It can be useful to know you'll fight back when pushed into a corner. And amusing. _The sardonic edge was back, but Ryou didn't let it slice into him.

_So glad I amuse you. At least __**some**_ _good can come at all of this._

A peal of laughter rang through his consciousness. _So bitter! You'll be giving me competition soon enough_. The Spirit chuckled again. _Perhaps when your miserable mortal existence peeters to an end, you can come share this blasted piece of jewelry, and we can air our grievances with the universe for all eternity_.

_I'd rather die,_ snapped Ryou, yanking the door to the locker room open.

_Yes,_ replied the Spirit, with the exaggerated air of a teacher explaining something to a particularly obtuse pupil. _So would I._

* * *

><p>A short time later, Ryou, fully dressed, returned to the school counselor's office. He found Tea standing in the middle of the room, staring absently toward the window. He would have thought she was looking out of it except for the simple fact that the shutters were down. She had pulled both the room and herself together in the time that Ryou had been gone. Her hair was still a mess, but she otherwise looked well enough. The office looked practically untouched, except for a pile of things near the door: a scented candle, a mug of greyish, curdled liquid, and a stack of sheets and blankets that had been folded—but loosely, not neatly like Ryou would have expected. "They don't belong in here," Tea explained. Ryou's head jerked up to find that Tea had turned towards him and had followed his gaze. "I brought them in from other places and haven't had a chance to put them back yet." She bit her lip. "Or clean them up, as the case might be."<p>

"I suppose that the snow plows will be coming around soon," Ryou said. The words fell lamely into the quiet space between them, but it was as good as conversation opener as he could get his hands on.

Tea nodded absently. "It will be back to real life soon," she said. Her thoughts had been traveling along similar lines to his, it seemed. That was probably inevitable. It shouldn't make Ryou's insides lurch, but it did.

_You're making_ _**my**_ _insides lurch, and we haven't eaten anything in hours,_ complained the Spirit. _If you can't keep yourself together for a simple conversation, I'll do it for you. _

Ryou scowled and shoved the Spirit back as hard as he could. He wasn't about to let the Spirit interfere. Not now.

Tea saw his frown and correctly interpreted it. "Is Ba—the Spirit…?" Her brow furrowed with concern.

"It's fine," said Ryou quickly. Maybe a touch too quickly. "Listen, Tea—"

Tea folded her arms across her body. "I know," she breathed. "These past few days have been different, but now…"

"Back to reality," echoed Ryou. A hollow ache yawned in his chest. Reality. Just as if the past few days had never existed, had been nothing more than a dream, or maybe a nightmare.

"This was real," Tea said, voice suddenly sharp. Her eyes flashed bright and then softened. She leaned forward and took Ryou's hand. "I know it feels…overwhelming…trying to reconcile this weekend with the way our lives have been, but we'll figure it out. We'll find a way forward." Her hand tightened on his. "I meant what I said, before. I—" she swallowed. "I won't forget."

Ryou looked up into her eyes, shining pools of endless summer sky, and a sad smile crossed his lips. "Yes," he whispered, "you will."


	57. Chapter 57

A/N: Sorry it's been a while. And more bad news: I'm about to go away on a trip, so the story will go on hiatus for a while. I am going to try to get one more chapter out before I leave, but I'm not going to be able to do any more writing while I'm gone. Hopefully, when I get back, I will be able to update without anymore interruptions until the end of the story (which we are fast coming up on).

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><p>Tea took a step backwards. There was a strange, fevered intensity to Ryou's brandy-brown eyes. "What are you talking about?"<p>

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "The Spirit of the Millennium Ring, he wants to erase your memories." The words sounded as though they had been snatched from his throat.

Tea's eyes went wide. "He can do that?"

"I guess so." Ryou looked down. "I know that there's a lot of things that I don't remember." He shrugged. "I don't understand most of the Spirit's magic, but I know if the Spirit thinks he can do something, he usually can."

A shiver ran down Tea's spine at the idea of the Spirit being able to mess with her thoughts. "And you're going to let him do this?" she demanded.

Ryou had the grace to look sheepish. "I don't how I could possibly stop him," he admitted, shifting from foot to foot. "And I don't know if I should try." He met Tea's eyes. "Maybe it's better this way."

"B-better?" Tea spluttered.

"Tea," Ryou said, and his voice was surprisingly even, "do you really want to remember?"

Tea thought about that, truly thought. Her eyelids drifted shut as images flooded through her mind—and more than images,a tidal wave of emotions and sheer sense memory. Soft lips and gentle kisses. That prickly feeling at the back of her neck. The burn of snow on her ankles, her calves. Panic spurting through her veins. The sting of steel against her skin. Twirling around the gym to Frank Sinatra, Ryou's hand on her waist. Warm blood trickling down her arm. The hot rush of rage and humiliation and lust all blended together. Cold linoleum at her back, water trickling off her skin. Pulse pounding in her throat. Long, pale fingers stripping away her clothing. Footsteps echoing in an empty hallway. The singing of strange magic and desire in her veins. The warm pressure of Ryou's hand in hers. Her throat tight with longing. Barbed words flung from much too close. The snap of a bungee cord and the thrill of delicious wickedness. Sardonic laughter. Terror clawing at her chest. The aching vulnerability in a pair of brown eyes. The swirl of shadows across a nightmare landscape. An unexpected flush in her cheeks. A predator's smile. Fingers gliding over bare skin. The soft wonder of discovery. Vicious thrusts. Agonizing pleasure. Feather-light caresses. Trust, affection, hope, all anchored in a simple look. Glory bursting over her like the sun breaking through the clouds.

Her eyes opened slowly and focused on Ryou's. "Yes," she said. "Oh, yes."

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><p>Her voice was a mere whisper, but the conviction in it sent a shiver down his spine. Ryou could hardly believe his ears. "Do you mean that?" he asked. The words slipped out before he could think about them, but it was a foolish question. Of course she meant it. Everything from the look in her eye to the set of her jaw proclaimed that fact loud and clear. It was an insult to suggest that she could be only parroting what he wanted to hear, and she responded accordingly. Her eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared. Her lips twisted into a scowl and then parted. But before she could say another, Ryou lifted a hand. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I know you meant it." He let his hand fall to his side. "I just wanted so badly to believe it that I almost couldn't."<p>

Her scowl eased a little, but her eyebrows remained furrowed. "Tell me you don't want to forget, Ryou. Do you…" her eyes fell a little and he could see the vulnerability there "…do you wish it hadn't happened? All of this…all of…us?"

"No!" exclaimed Ryou, then softer, "no, of course not." He met her eyes. "Don't you know how incredible these days have been for me? My only regret is everything you've had to suffer…"

Tea waved this away. "But you're still going to let the Spirit take it all away?" She re-crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't understand."

Ryou's shoulders drooped. Quietly, he tried his best to explain the Spirit's reasoning. He didn't know if he could make her agree, but he had to do his best to make her understand. To let her know that it wasn't that he didn't care for her, that it wasn't that it wouldn't hurt like hell to know she'd forgotten every kiss, every touch. It wasn't even the complicated cowardice of not being able to face the reshaping of their worlds that Monday morning would inevitably bring.

It was just plain cowardice, unadorned with delicate feelings. It was the fear of being beaten to a bloody pulp by Joey or Tristan's fists, the fear of seeing disgust on the faces of the few people he'd allowed himself to truly care about, the fear that his mortal spirit would be shattered beyond repair by the magic of Yugi's Millennium Puzzle and the fury of the spirit that dwelt in it.

He was a coward, but he could live with that.

"What were you planning to tell people, Tea?"

Her brow furrowed again, but not in anger. It's not a question she'd thoroughly explored, he could tell. "Do I have to tell them anything?" she queried with a laugh. The laugh was forced, and the question was rhetorical because they both knew the answer. Yes, of course she did.

She threaded her fingers together and swallowed. "Okay, so I hadn't completely worked it out yet." She tossed her head, and she looked a little more like the old Tea. That casual confidence was back, displaying itself in a thousand little ways—the slant of her shoulders, the gleam in her eyes, the drumming of her fingers against the arm of the sofa. "It's not that big a deal, really. I mean, okay, some of my friends might be a little weirded out to find that we're dating, but what are they really going to do about it? It's my life." She had directed most of this speech to the open doorway, but now she glanced over at Ryou to see his reaction.

Ryou had a slightly stunned look in his eyes and a goofy grin on his face. "Wait, that's what you plan to tell them? That we're _dating?_"

"Ye-es?" Tea quirked an eyebrow. "We _are_ dating, aren't we?"

"I…T-that is…I w-would like…" Ryou stammered and then swallowed. "Yes." His grin widened a tad. "Yes, we are." Tea smiled. She reached over and took his hand.

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><p>They sat together on the couch in silence, thighs pressed against each other, fingers entwined. Tea relaxed against the worn, scratchy fabric and Ryou's warm shoulder. She had almost put the whole thing out of her mind when Ryou asked, in a hesitant whisper, "What about the Spirit?"<p>

She blushed, and immediately hated herself for it. She tossed her head, hoping that her hair would hide red cheeks a little better. "What _about_ the Spirit?" she murmured. She hoped her tone came across careless and casual. It didn't feel that way, squeezed out of her voice box. Did Ryou think she had _feelings_ for the Spirit? Did she have feelings for the Spirit? No, not possible. Not tender feelings, anyway. Hate was a feeling, after all. So was rage. And pure animal lust.

"He still is going to want to take your memories away," Ryou said quietly. _Oh._ "He thinks you'll tell Yugi about what he did to you."

Scarlet licked her cheeks. She couldn't imagine such a conversation. She didn't want to imagine telling her friend such things or imagine how he would look if she did. She simply shook her head mutely.

Ryou gave a little nod of understanding, but he said, "The Spirit won't believe it, though."

Tea pursed her lips. "Why does it matter?"she asked. "Why does it matter if he believes me? Why does he even care if I tell Yugi?"

Ryou shifted beside her. "It's hard to explain, but I'll try. It's not Yugi, exactly, that he doesn't want to know. It's the Spirit inside his Millennium Puzzle." He glanced at her. "I think they're ancient enemies, somehow, the Spirit of the Ring and the Spirit of the Puzzle. All I really know is that the Spirit of the Ring hates the Spirit of the Puzzle, hates him more than anyone or anything. He wants to destroy him, Tea. He's always going on about it. It's always there, in the back of his mind." Ryou drew in a deep breath. "But, he's afraid of him too. The Spirit of the Puzzle has power, I guess. Enough power that the Spirit of the Ring is frightened of what the Spirit of the Puzzle would do if he ever found out what the Ring Spirit did to you."

"He'd be furious," admitted Tea. She thought about the Spirit, about that look in his eyes she had glimpsed sometimes during a duel. Like during that duel with the Kaiba impersonator. She knew the Spirit in Yugi's Puzzle was good, but sometimes he was also terrifying.

"Yes," Ryou agreed softly.

"I fail to see how that's my problem." Ryou glanced up at her in surprise. Her voice had hardened and so had her face. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Maybe the Spirit should have considered the consequences before screwing with me." She instantly regretted her choice of words. After all, screwing with her was exactly what he had done. She remained adamant, however. "It's not my responsibility to protect him from the fallout."

"Of course not." There was an odd, almost guilty look to Ryou's face. "It isn't your problem at all, is it?"

Her arms relaxed to her sides."Can we stop him?" she whispered. "There has to be a way."

It took Ryou a long time to answer. She had almost started to think he wasn't going to at all, when he said, slowly, "It might be possible, Tea. It…It _must _be possible, because if it wasn't, he would have done it already, and you wouldn't have ever known anything about it. He needs you to help in someway. I don't quite understand. But you…we…must be able to stop him somehow. But there will be a price, Tea. There's always a price."

She looked into his eyes. Unexpectedly, she was reminded of the first night they'd spent here, of quiet conversations over mostly-heated hot dogs in the chemistry lab. He'd had that same look then, fear battling with trust, tight-gripped secrets and terrible vulnerability. On impulse, she took Ryou's hand. "It's going to be okay," she told him. And she meant it, although she didn't know yet how she would make it true. She squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. "Now," she said. "I need to talk to the Spirit."


	58. Chapter 58

A/N: Got the chapter in before I left! Also, I just wanted to thank all my reviewers. I read and appreciate every response, and they fuel my writing. If I don't respond, it's because I'm really terrible at talking about my writing without spoiling stuff.

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><p>At her words, Ryou's eyes went wide and his mouth parted, as if to make a surprised protest. But the protest never came. Instead, his eyes narrowed to near slits s that unmistakable aura of darkness and danger enveloped him. <em>Poor Ryou<em>, thought Tea. She doubted he had made the decision to let her speak to his other self.

"Well," drawled Bakura. "This ought to be interesting, at least."

Tea jumped to her feet. She didn't like having to look down at Bakura as he sprawled on the sofa like a king on a throne, but she liked having his body pressed up against hers even less. She folded her arms and scowled down at the Spirit. "Explain to me why you think you're going to erase my memories," she demanded.

The Spirit chuckled. "You're going to have to do much better than that if you want to intimidate me, my dear," he told her. His eyes traveled down the length of her body. "Of course, I quite doubt there is anything you can do after seeing how vulnerable you were last night." He licked his lips. "And delectable, by the way."

Tea's stomach lurched. Oh dear. This was not a good idea. But it was too late now. Ryou was gone beyond her power to recall. She straightened her spine and tried to look as if his words had not affected her at all. Of course, he knew different.

"You know," Bakura mused, "I might be _persuaded _to tell you my plans." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. He laughed when Tea flinched. "Don't worry, I wasn't serious. I got my fill of you last night. You are a voluptuous armful, to be sure, but rather lack the skills to make repeat performances interesting." He gave his head a shake, stirring his dead white locks. "After all, there's not much challenge in conquering a fallen citadel."

Tea held herself very still. Blood drained from her face, except for her cheeks, which glowed scarlet. She couldn't speak. If she opened her mouth, either an incoherent string of outraged gabble would emerge or else nothing at all. Neither would do her much good in the face of Bakura's smug condescension.

"I've offended you," he observed in a rather pleased tone. "I'd apologize, but it would be fairly pointless, wouldn't it?" His smirk widened a smidge. "In a short while, you won't remember either the insult or the apology—nor the circumstances that lead to them."

Her jaw tightened. "That is not going to happen," she gritted out. "I am going to keep my memories."

"I'm touched that our short time together meant so much to you," rejoined Bakura, "but I am going to have to insist." His smirk disappeared. "I know my host explained the reasons why you can't keep your memories."

"Because of the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle," Tea said. "Because you're afraid of him."

Rage twisted Bakura's features. Tea involuntarily took a step backwards. Despite his fury, however, he did not move from his seat on the couch, although his muscles had tensed, giving the impression he could lunge forward at any moment. A stammering apology rose to her lips, but she bit it back. She was _not_ sorry, would _not_ be cowed.

"You're afraid of what he'll do to you," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "You think if you steal my memories you can hide from the consequences, but you can't have them. They're mine."

"The consequences?" queried Bakura. His expression had smoothed to match his tone, but both held a thinly veiled edge. "Yes, you'll certainly have your share of them. Can you just imagine how your friends would look at you if they knew what I'd done to you?" His mouth twisted. "Poor, pitiful Tea. Not your fault, of course, just a helpless victim, but still…_soiled_, that's what they'd think. _Used_." He grinned, but there was less amusement and more cruelty in it than before. "And if they knew how you'd responded. How you moaned and sigh and _begged_ for my touch. How you called me 'Master' just for the pleasure of my mouth on your tits." He chuckled, his eyes fixed on Tea's face. "How would they look at you then, do you think?"

Oh, how she hated him. Her body trembled with the physical ache of how much she hated him in that moment. If there had been a knife in her hand, she would have plunged it into his chest, and damn the consequences. She bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood.

"But I wouldn't tell them," she heard her own voice say, small and wooden and coming from far away. "I'd never tell them."

He inclined his head to one side as if considering her words, and then shook his head. "Perhaps not. But I'm not likely to stake my continued existence upon it."

"I fail to see how that's my problem."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Do you really think you have a say in any of this, my sweet?"

She raised her chin. "I know I do. Ryou said—"

"Ah, yes," he interrupted. "My host told you that I needed your assistance. Well, I'm afraid he overstated his case. Grasping at straws. Typical." He favored her with a sardonic smile.

Tea narrowed her eyes. "Explain."

He settled back against the couch cushions, completely at ease once more. "It might get a bit complicated," he warned her. "It involves magic,and I don't know if I can put it all in terms that you will understand. But I will do my best. Why don't you come sit down while I try to explain things?" He patted the seat beside himself.

"Don't patronize me," spat Tea. "Just get on with the explanation."

"As you wish." His eyes half-closed. "Ordinarily, there would be no trouble with erasing your memories. This particular use of shadow-magic is one I have always found useful. I've played with my host's memories so many times I've lost track, and with just a bit more exertion, I can distort the memories of others as well." He smiled. "You think your memories are exclusively yours, my dear, but the truth of the matter is that I've already meddled with them. Twice, in fact."

Tea stared at him in sick horror. What did he mean? What had he done? Had days like these past two happened before? She frantically rummaged through her mind for blank spaces, gaps of unaccounted time. What she found instead were vague, niggling memories. Scraps of images, dangling threads. There'd been a duel, late at night. She could see the Spirit's face looming over a battlefield, huge, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "You turned us all into Duel Monsters cards," she murmured.

He laughed. "Yes. Amusing, wasn't it?"

Tea didn't respond. Something else had caught at her memory, something fainted, buried deeper. There'd been some kind of underground passage…flickering torchlight…robed strangers chanting…and Pegasus, with his Millennium Eye gleaming. She tugged at the threads and the complete memory tumbled into place.

"That night before the finals!" she gasped. "When we went exploring to find out how Pegasus was cheating!"

"Remembered that too, did you?" Bakura's smile was positively wolfish. "So you know that it's no mere bluff. I can take your memories away."

Tea pursed her lips. "But I _remember_," she said. "I didn't always, but I remember now."

"Ah, there is that." The smile stayed on Bakura's lips, but it left his eyes entirely. "So now you understand why I require your cooperation. I can bury your memories, but they are still there. They can be triggered, like any other forgotten recollections." His brow furrowed. "And then there's the way the Ring seems to react in…unpredictable ways to you. That complicates matters."

Tea planted her hands on her hips. "So you _do_ need my cooperation."

"If you don't cooperate, I will simply rip the memories out of your mind," the Spirit informed her evenly. "But it will be…messy. I might not get all the bits that I want. I may take more than I intend. There will be no telling what exactly you will remember and what you will not. There will be ragged black gaps where you are certain something terribly important will be." He raised an eyebrow. "It could drive you insane."

"Or, more to the point, it could fail to get the job done." Tea tried to keep her voice as steady as the Spirit's had been, but prickles of cold ran up and down her arms. "Probing at those gaps, searching for the missing pieces, pulling at the shreds that remain…it's sure to jar something loose, isn't it?" Her eyes narrowed. "And when I realize there's something wrong with my memories, the first person I'd go to would be Yugi. Before I even knew what it was that had been taken from me."

"You've put your finger on it," agreed Bakura. His voice was soft and dangerous, a predator's low growl. "So, you see why resisting this is futile. It's in all of our best interests for you to comply."

Fingers of panic tightened on Tea's spine. "No!" she burst out. "No, you don't have to do this. I already said that I wouldn't tell anyone. I meant it. I'll never tell a soul."

Bakura was unmoved. "Not good enough," he said simply.

She stared at him. "You don't believe me."

He shrugged. "I believe you have no intention of telling any of your precious friends at this moment. I believe that right now, you can't imagine ever doing so." His eyebrows slid lower over his eyes. "But I know your type. You're too full of truthfulness and trust to keep any real deep, dark secrets. You'd keep it for awhile, maybe a month or two, maybe even five or six. Then one day, when you're all having a group hug or a nice cry or sharing a cozy little near-death experience, you'll confess it all, get it off your chest, and sob into your friends' shoulders." He made a face. "And then where would I be, sweetheart?"

Tea had recovered sufficiently to glare at him. "Getting your just desserts, and I won't be shedding any tears over it, I can assure you."

"Ah, but what about poor little Ryou? Will you spare a tear or two for him, I wonder?"

"What?" Tea frowned at him. "What are you driving at?"

The Spirit flashed a toothy grin. "He's my _host_. We share a _body_. More than that, actually. Our minds, our souls, our very _beings_ have been connected through the Ring. Irrevocably, I'm afraid."

"Speak plainly." Fear, as much as anger, made her voice sharp.

With exaggerated clarity, the Spirit elaborated. "Any revenge the Pharaoh—that is, the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle—enacts on me will affect Ryou as well."

Tea shook her head. "No, you're wrong! He'd never hurt Ryou, not when he's innocent of all this!"

"I can't say that the fate of innocents has ever weighed too heavily in the balance when the Pharaohs have meted out justice," he observed dryly. "But, as I can see you are unconvinced, consider this: there is no way for the Spirit of the Puzzle to punish me without destroying Ryou in the process. So he will have to sacrifice one already-tainted innocent and destroy an evil foe, or allow to go completely unpunished the one who has not only misused the powers of a Millennium Item, but has also violated his soul-partner's dearest friend—and dare I say, beloved?" He let out a chuckle. "Which do you think he will choose, my dear? Are you really so naive as to think he is as pure as the driven snow?"

Once more, Tea was forced into silence. The only thing she could think about, the thought she could not put out of her mind, was that duel with Kaiba on the ramparts of Pegasus' castle. The Spirit of the Puzzle had been willing to sacrifice Kaiba's life in order to win the duel. She trembled. She couldn't speak.

Slowly, deliberately, Bakura rose from the couch and walked to her. He held out his hand. "Do we have an agreement?"


End file.
